


Sacred Simplicity (Of You At My Side)

by kat_fanfic



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bottom Derek Hale, CPA Universe, First Time, Forced Bonding, M/M, Open Universe, Pack Dynamics, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kat_fanfic/pseuds/kat_fanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The <b>Creature Protection Act</b> - a revolutionary truce between Humans and Altered Individuals. <i>Communication - Care - Control</i>"</p><p>Stiles snorted. Yeah, right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacred Simplicity (Of You At My Side)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my awesome betas, [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/profile)[**Max**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/Unknown/) and [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tmzcori/profile)[](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/tmzcori/)**Cori**!
> 
> This is an open Universe! I invite everyone who is inspired to write in it, create art for it, live in it... go to town, people! :) Just, let me know if you do? I'd love to read it.

If there was one place in the world Stiles wouldn’t ever want to be, it’d be the Beacon Hills Creature Pound. Even stepping into the former Animal Clinic had his hackles rising and a shudder working its way down his spine. 

Keeping close to his Dad, he glanced around, trying to get a sense of the place. Through the door behind the counter, he could just about see the cross-barred holding cells. They were small and sparsely furnished, a single mattress squashed into one corner and a tiled bathroom unit in the other.

Only three of them were occupied, but Stiles quickly lowered his gaze before he could make out any details. Bad enough that he was here to ‘purchase’ one of them, he was not going to make them feel any worse by gawking like a tourist in a Zoo. 

Instead, his eyes fell on the huge CPA poster hanging directly opposite. It seemed to be mocking him with its pastely feel-good vibe, proclaiming the Creature Protection Act to be a “revolutionary truce between Humans and Altered Individuals”. Stiles couldn’t help the snort as he read the three C’s. 

 _Communication – Care – Control_  

Yeah, right.  

“This is the single most shitty thing you ever made me do,” he said conversationally, even as his fists clenched.

Heaving a sigh, Dad turned around slowly. “You know exactly why we’re here, Stiles. Please don’t make it anymore difficult than it already is.”

Stiles grimaced. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“’Wasn’t that bad? Stiles, you were almost ripped apart by your best friend!” Warding off Stiles’ attempt to protest, Dad grabbed his shoulders to still his restless movements. “I know that he didn’t mean to hurt you. But it was his first full moon after being turned and you sneaking in there did complicate things.”

Heaving a sigh, Stiles slowly shook his head. “He barely touched me.”

“Yes, because he was distracted by the Argent girl. Thank god for teenage obsessions.”

“Dad, Scott wouldn’t have-“

“Stiles!” 

Startled, Stiles snapped his mouth shut. His dad yelled so rarely that when he did, it tended to stop Stiles in his tracks.

“This is not up for negotiation! Despite what you may think, I’m still the adult here and if I can’t trust you to take care of yourself then I have to do it for you.”

“That’s so not fair,” Stiles argued. “I know how to take care of myself. I’m not some stupid horror movie bimbo, you know. If there’s a staircase, I’ll even go down.”

Letting him go, Dad took a step back and raised an eyebrow. “So that is why Scott had you up by the throat, dangling two feet above the ground?”

“Um,” Stiles said sheepishly. “I had a plan?”

“Jesus Christ, son.” Letting out an explosive sigh, Dad rubbed a hand over his face.  It suddenly struck Stiles how tired he looked. Tired, and old, and when had that happened? There were gray streaks in his sandy blond hair and new lines around his eyes that he’d never noticed before. “I know that this is, well, unorthodox.“ 

Sucking in a deep breath, a million reasons on his tongue why this was more than just unorthodox, Stiles pressed his lips together to keep from blurting out something that he’d regret later.

“Look, Stiles,” Dad said, sounding both stubborn and resigned, like he knew that he wasn’t going to get his way but was hell-bent on trying anyway. It was how Stiles felt a lot of the time and it rankled that he had reduced his Dad to this. “I wouldn’t do this if I didn’t think that there was no other way, can we agree on that at least?”

They stared at each other for a long time. At last, Stiles nodded, resigning himself to sacrificing his principles to make his Dad happy. It sat like a ball of lead in his stomach, especially when Dr. Deaton came towards them, greeting them with a saccharine smile that looked as fake as his picture gallery of happy ‘pet’ owners did which lined the back wall. 

“Ah, Sheriff Stilinski! I’m so glad you could make it today. And this is your son?”

At least his Dad seemed to feel about as comfortable as Stiles did as he shook the Doctor’s hand. “Yeah, good to see you again, Doc. This is Stiles, he, ah, we want to take on one of your, uh, guests.”

The Doctor’s face lit up and Stiles swallowed back bile. “Wonderful! You have come to the right place, though I’m afraid my selection is a bit limited at the moment. We did have a nice pair of Betas last week, but unfortunately they got chosen right away.”

Stiles bit his lip to stop himself from uttering a scathing reply. 

Looking troubled, his Dad made a vague gesture towards the holding cells. “So, what do you have then?”

“Oh”, the Doctor gushed. “You’re in luck, just this morning I got a beautiful specimen. A turned werewolf. Admittedly, he is a bit on the young side but I wouldn’t count that as a negative in your case. You are looking for protection, right? Maybe someone to add to your precinct’s K9 unit?”

“Oh my god,” Stiles exclaimed. “You did not just say that.”

Deaton never missed a beat. “Ah,” he murmured, winking at his Dad conspiratorially. “Bit of a difficult one, isn’t he?”

Stiles snorted, glowering back when his Dad threw him a sharp look. Just because he had no choice in this didn’t mean he’d have to make it easy. 

“Yeah, look,” his Dad said on a sigh. “I’m actually here for my son. Being the Sheriff’s kid, it makes him a target, and I’d just feel better knowing that he has some protection. And the sooner it gets done, the better. School starts in a couple of weeks and I don’t have the time to proper train a, uh, companion, for him.”

“I see,” Deaton said. “This changes things a little. In your case I think the only choice we have is a proper bonding. That excludes the mutant, as well as the turned Beta, as you may know they’re unable to properly from a bond. I do have an alternative on offer, a born werewolf, an Alpha even, though I’m a bit hesitant about him.”

“Please,” Stiles heard his Dad say. “We don’t have the time to go somewhere else.”

There was something off about his Dad’s tone of voice. From anyone else, the words would have sounded desperate and pleading, but somehow, his Dad managed to make them come across like an instruction instead. Still. This was about more than his simple mishap with Scott, Stiles suddenly realized. Whatever had driven his Dad to take this very peculiar step, it had made him desperate enough to risk Stiles’ long-lasting and spiteful wrath. 

“Jeez, Dad,” he huffed, protesting a bit half-heartedly as he pondered over that new insight. “Why the hurry? We can look somewhere else, no problem. I hear Forks has a great Creature Pound. I mean, it’s not like I’ll get eaten by a Wendigo as soon as I step out the door—“

“That’s enough, Stiles,” his Dad interjected, steel in his voice. 

Stiles narrowed his eyes, now even more convinced that there was something going on,  but made a zipping motion in front of his mouth as sarcastically as he could nevertheless, prompting his Dad to roll his eyes so hard it looked painful. Counting that as a success, he walked into the holding room and promptly forgot about his sealed lips.

“It smells funny in here,” he murmured, wrinkling his nose. 

“That would be the wolfsbane,” Dr. Deaton said pleasantly and pointed to the little oil burners that stood in every corner of the room. 

Stiles felt sick. On the edges of his vision, he could see the wolfed-out Alpha (red eyes! So cool!) bare his teeth at the Doctor as the man casually waved his hand, wafting a few of the purple wads of smoke in his direction.

“Is that really necessary?” his Dad asked, looking uncomfortable. 

Dr. Deaton smiled patiently. “It’s a precaution, Sheriff. What you have to understand is that these aren’t your run off the mill Creature-Citizens we’re dealing with here. Despite the recent negative propaganda, the CPA doesn’t arbitrarily hand out sentences like this.”

Biting his tongue to keep his objections inside, Stiles glanced over to his Dad. Even though they weren’t exactly on the same page when it came to CPA politics, there was no way his Dad would let a blatant lie like that slide, right? 

Clearing his throat and actively avoiding Stiles’ gaze, his Dad made a vague gesture, encompassing the whole room. “Yeah, well, you’re the expert.”

“Exactly,” the Doctor said, a smile twitching around his lips. 

Feeling a lot like he’d just stepped into the Twilight Zone, Stiles stared at his Dad for a long time, before turning his attention back to Deaton. “So you think you’re doing them a favor by locking them up and selling them like livestock?”

Smile taking on a sharp edge, Dr. Deaton met his angry glare head-on. “I don’t think I’m doing them a favor. I know so. What do you think would happen to Creatures that have gone rogue? They’d be hunted down like rabid dogs. At least this way we can make sure that their new handlers know exactly what they’re in for and can treat them according to their nature.”

“According to their nature,” Stiles huffed, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Somehow I have a feeling that their assessment of the situation would be very different.”

“And that is exactly why the CPA was established,” Deaton said smoothly, effectively ending the discussion by ushering his Dad into the back of the building, babbling on about the proper care of werewolves.

Quietly seething, Stiles cursed everything that had lead him to be here, to be forced to do the very same thing he’d fought against ever since the CPA was first introduced. It only took a glance at the younger wolf’s face in the cage to flash back to another beautiful, dimpled face. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the memories. 

A sharp hissing sound had him snap out of it and turn towards the occupied cells. Looking directly into the largest one for the first time, Stiles shrank back. Lycanthrope, his brain immediately supplied, Kanima mutation. The boy wasn’t changed completely, only about half his face was covered in green scales. They were about the same age, Stiles noticed absently, slightly weirded out by the slitted reptilian eyes. In fact, the longer the looked at the boy, the more he was certain that he’d seen him before.

“Oh my god, you’re Jackson Whittemore!” he blurted out as recognition struck and almost had a heart attack when the Kanima’ed teen snarled and suddenly leaped forward, stopping mere millimeters in front of the charged up bars. 

Stiles squeaked and stumbled back, arms automatically coming up. “Whoa, okay, down boy!” 

A soft snort had him look into the cell next to Lizard-Jackson. The boy in it didn’t look like much of a threat. He was tall, but gangly, and the wild mop of curls on his head along with the big blue eyes made him look about five years old. In reality, Stiles guessed him to be about fifteen, sixteen at the most. He sat on the ground, huddled as close to the bars that connected him to the Alpha’s cell as he could without electrocuting himself. 

There was something strange about that, but before he could properly think on it, Stiles was distracted by his Dad’s and the Doctor’s ongoing conversation as they returned. 

“Yeah, they were caught when the Alpha tried to break into the old Hale house,” Deaton was saying as he handed the Sheriff what looked like a bundle of brochures. “He’d been wanted in connection with the Creature kills and was sentenced to Impoundment by the Hunter Committee a couple of days ago.”

His Dad nodded and Stiles’ ears perked up. He’d only heard rumors about the string of murders being connected to a rogue ‘wolf.

“I worked with Hunter Argent on that one,” his Dad was saying as he half-heartedly leafed through the papers. “I was booted off though, as soon as they narrowed down the suspect list. I had no idea they’d arrested someone for the murders.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Dr. Deaton said. “Everything related to the Hale fire is very hush-hush, even today. And the most peculiar thing is, we have a Hale right here. You wouldn’t believe it looking at him now, but that Alpha is actually Derek Hale.”

 “Derek, huh?” There was something strange in his Dad’s voice and it prompted Stiles to look at the captured Alpha. His breath caught. The glowing red had begun to bleed away and the ‘wolf’s eyes now shimmered a deep blue, keen intelligence battling animal instincts. His face still showed some signs of transformation but was mostly human. 

Stiles stared, something in the man’s intense stare arrested his attention like few things ever did. A sense of familiarity washed over him, even though he was pretty sure he’d never seen the man before. 

It actually took him a while to pull his gaze away and when he did, a pang went through him that felt strangely like loss.  “Going crazy, Stiles,” he murmured lowly.

“This,” the Doctor was saying just then as he brandished a small flask. “This is what we’ll use to induce the link, since basically what we’re going to do is simulate the actual body-reactions that lead to a pack-bond. The initial connection is the strongest, so I’d advise it to be the boy. You will automatically be included in the wolf’s sense of pack then, Sheriff Stilinski.” 

“I have to actually bond with him? As in Werewolf-married soul-connected gay-sex bonded? Are you crazy?”

Deaton smiled, looking honestly amused. “It’s a very common misconception that a bond has to be sexually consummated.”

Stiles couldn’t really help the hysterical giggle. “Oh god,” he spluttered, “you said ‘mated’.”

“Mate,” Dr. Deaton repeated. “That’s another rather archaic term. Let me take an educated guess, Mr. Stilinski, and assume that Ms. Morrell is your teacher in Creature Studies?”

Feeling a bit as if he had an Asthma attack – and poor Scott, no wonder his Mom had arranged the bite for him, this sucked – Stiles nodded.

Dr. Deaton stared at him for a long time. “You should consider switching classes,” he said finally.  “All these romantic notions that woman has about Creatures are unrealistic and dangerous. Science offers the answers we’re looking for, not fairy-tales and old wives’ tales.” 

“Uh, sure,” Stiles answered distractedly, intending to do nothing of the kind. Quite the contrary, he had a feeling that Miss Morrell was going to be his new best friend. “What’s this going do to him?” He gestured towards the flask that held an innocuous looking clear liquid that shimmered vaguely purple when the light hit it a certain way.

“I’m glad you asked,” Deaton said, sounding for all the world like an excited college professor. “This is a combination of a rare kind of Aconitum, called Devil’s Helmet, and an essence of Mandrake root. Basically, what it does is, the wolfsbane acts as a catalyst for the Mandrake, which in turn will prepare the necessary neurological pathways to make the Alpha think he’s found a suitable companion.”

Stiles grimaced. “So it’s a date-rape drug.”

Deaton’s eyes narrowed, making Stiles assume that he’d finally managed to make a dent in the man’s easy-going façade. “It has drug-like chracteristics, yes,” he said though, still sounding way too calm. “But I assure you, this method was tested extensively and was approved by the CPA committee. Besides, it’s not like he will just take anything you dish out lying down once the process is over. He will see you as his mate and do everything in his power to protect you. He will also, to a certain extent, listen to what you say, but, and this is very important, he will still possess a modicum of free will-“

“How inconvenient,” Stiles murmured. 

“- even though the desire to protect you and everyone else in your pack will be of capital importance to him.” Deaton finished without pause.

“Stiles,” his Dad said warningly. “That is quite enough from you now.”

Suddenly exhausted, Stiles nodded. A ball of lead had formed in his stomach as the extent of what was going to happen crashed over him. “Let’s get it over with,” he sighed. There really was no point in putting it off any longer. Any hope he might have had of getting out of this had been crushed and Stiles wanted nothing more than to get the bitter tang of betrayal out of his mouth as soon as possible.

“Excellent!” Deaton said. “Sheriff, why don’t you step into my office to read and sign those owner papers I laid out for you? As Stiles’ legal guardian it has to be you, even though the main focus of the bond will be your son.”

Stiles watched his Dad go, feeling utterly alone. Which was kind of ironic, since he was about to be handed a life-long companion here. 

Deaton flicked a switch, deactivating the electric current on the bars and took a heavy-looking set of keys from one of the hooks on the wall. Then he stepped towards the holding cells. “I’ll have to ask you to step back,” he said. “There are protective lines on the ground here, but I assume you have never worked with mountain ash or oltu stones before?”

A shiver racing down his spine, Stiles shook his head.

“Didn’t think so. Whatever that mad woman is teaching you, it better include some practical training soon,” Deaton mumbled as he worked the right key into the lock of the Alpha’s cell. “You’re going to need it.”

And as if to prove his point, the second the Doctor turned the lock on the steel-barred door, the Alpha lunged forward. With a roar, he propelled himself against it, pushing it open and shoving the Doctor aside with barely restrained violence. 

Stiles stared, frozen in place. The werewolf’s eyes were glowing red and his canines had extended fully. He looked magnificent, growling from deep in his chest, crouched low, his muscles bunching. 

It was a horrifyingly compelling sight, and Stiles trembled as adrenaline shot hotly through his veins, triggering long-dormant instincts that had him stay stock-still and lower his gaze. 

Even as he shook in reaction, though, despite being less than two feet away from a predator, Stiles didn’t feel threatened at all. Maybe his sense of self-preservation was as stunted as everyone always claimed it was. There was something about the way the Alpha tried to get away, though, something that made him want to step aside and let him go. 

Dr. Deaton obviously didn’t feel the same. Without batting a lash, he stepped half in front of Stiles and pulled out a smallish, yellow something and pointed it at the Alpha. Stiles couldn’t really see, but whatever Deaton was doing, it made the Alpha rear back in a pained frenzy, clawing at his own chest and arms while venting low, almost inaudible whines. 

“No, stop it!” He yelled and moving before his brain could catch up with him, Stiles grabbed the Doctor’s hands and was trying to make him stop. It took Stiles’ whole weight to get Dr. Deaton to lower his arm. There was manic glee on the man’s face as the Alpha writhed and threw himself violently against the steel bars at his back, out of his mind with pain. 

Stiles didn’t stop to think. He grabbed the thing – what was that, a water pistol? -  and threw it away as far as he could. “I said,” he snarled. “Stop it!”

Finally, Dr. Deaton seemed to snap out of whatever fugue state he’d been in. His expression smoothed over so effortlessly that Stiles almost doubted what he’d seen there earlier. Almost. If it weren’t for the smell of singed flesh in the air, or the way the Alpha was breathing harshly through his nose, his chest heaving.

Dr. Deaton cleared his throat. “That wasn’t a very smart thing to do. Despite all my precautions he is still very dangerous, and he will continue to be so as long as he’s unbonded.”

It was said with such levity that it had Stiles cringing. “He’s mine now, right?” He said, going for calm superiority. “I mean my Dad is over there signing the papers as we speak.”

“Yes, that is true, but--”

“No,” Stiles said. “As his handler, I demand that you step back, Dr. Deaton.”

“You are not yet bonded. I can’t risk a convicted Lyc getting out of Impoundment, surely you can imagine the kind of damage he could do.”

“Oh please,” Stiles hissed, losing his patience. “You know as well as I do that he won’t try to escape.”

Huffing, the Doctor exclaimed: “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

Not buying the innocent act for one second, Stiles ignored him. Turning towards the Alpha, he held out his hands, showing that they were empty. He could feel the Alpha’s burning gaze on him, even as he himself kept looking at the boy behind him. 

“He’s okay now,” He murmured under his breath, directing the words toward Isaac, but hoping that the Alpha would listen to them as well. “I’m not going to hurt him, alright? He’s safe with me, you both are.” 

There was no obvious reaction, but Stiles could see a slight lessening of tension in the Alpha’s broad frame. It was Isaac though who nodded at Stiles and reached a hand through the now electricity-free bars, touching the Alpha’s back in a calming manner. He murmured something Stiles couldn’t quite catch, but it made the Alpha glance back at the boy. 

When the werewolf turned his head back towards them, some of the red in his eyes had leaked away. He looked more human now than Stiles had ever seen him before, but it did nothing for Stiles’ peace of mind. The ball of dread in his gut was getting heavier again, and it had nothing to do with fearing the destructive power of a terrified ‘wolf. It was the gleam of intelligence in those red-rimmed eyes that had Stiles step between the Alpha and Deaton. 

“Derek, isn’t it?” Stiles said, looking him directly in the eyes. He tried to ignore the way his voice wavered. “Derek Hale? Look, I know what you’re trying to do, okay, and it won’t work. Not like this.”

The Alpha’s lips pulled back in a snarl, but the eyes meeting his own were calm, measuring him.

“Please,” Stiles pleaded quietly, desperation taking over. “Just, don’t do anything rash.”

There was movement behind him and with a sinking feeling Stiles realized that his Dad had joined the party. Yippy.  

“Stiles.” 

Ignoring his Dad for the moment, Stiles took a step towards the tensing Alpha, hands held out in front of him. “This is not the way. I swear we’ll make this right, I won’t let the two of you get separated, but you have to trust me.”

“Stiles,” his Dad said again.  “Get back from him or I’ll have to shoot.”

Not breaking the ‘wolf’s gaze, Stiles waved his hand around in a vague ‘put the gun away’ gesture, adding a tensely cheerful, “No shooting of anyone, Sheriff Trigger-Happy. I know what I’m doing. Derek and me have a rapport here, don’t we?”

He didn’t really expect a reaction. The best he was hoping for at this point was to get everyone out of this situation alive and at least relatively unharmed. Not for the first time, he wished for having a reason to be considered for a bite. According to the CPA’s online check list, his mild form of ADHD wasn’t on the list of eligible diseases. Not like Scott’s Asthma or Erica’s epilepsy had been.

To his eternal surprise, though, Derek moved his head in what could be interpreted as a nod. His claws stayed out, but he actually lowered his arms and from the corner of his eyes, Stiles could see his Dad following suit. 

Letting out a sigh of relief, Stiles turned to Deaton. “Give me the keys to Isaac’s cell,” he demanded, shooting Jackson an apologetic glance. Sadly, there was nothing he could do for the other teen.

He’d never particularly liked him when they’d known each other in middle school but he’d always felt for the orphaned boy, especially after his own Mum had passed. Sure, Jackson was rich and spoiled and used to getting his own way, but seeing him now, hissing occasionally, reptilian skin gleaming wetly in the fluorescent light, Stiles kind of pitied him. Nobody deserved to be caged like this, with no influence over one’s own fate. Especially when they had done nothing to deserve it. Kanimas were to be impounded by default, Stiles had read, since their special mutation made them “vulnerable to abuse”. Stiles had scoffed, knowing that the CPA represented the biggest abusers of all.

Shaking off the depressing thoughts, he decided to concentrate on his own little tragedy. Opening the heavy steel-bar door, he waved Derek through it, making a big show of pocketing the key. 

“Go on,” he urged when the Alpha hesitated. “Make sure the Beta is okay, I’ll handle things here.”

The look Derek shot him said ‘Yeah, right’ as clearly as wolfed-out eyebrows could express it, but he actually went into the cell.

“This is a big mistake,” Deaton said to his Dad and Stiles whirled around so fast he got a little dizzy. Or maybe that was because of the wads of wolfsbane smoke still wafting through the air and the fact that he’d just won a face-off with an angry Alpha.

“What in god’s name was that?” his Dad asked through clenched teeth. He still had his weapon drawn, but the safety was on. “Didn’t we just have a talk about you taking better care of yourself?”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles said, “it’s not like I was going to get eaten or anything. I knew what was going on and handled it so that nobody got hurt. Which is more than can be said for the good Doctor here.”

“What are you talking about, Stiles?”

Shooting a glance back to where Derek was hovering over Isaac in a slightly threatening but probably meant to be protective manner, Stiles waved in their direction.

“Look at them!” he exclaimed, shaking his hand again for emphasis. “Don’t you see, Dad? They’re pack! That’s why Derek didn’t run when he had the chance. Because he couldn’t leave Isaac behind.”

His Dad looked confused. “And why is that?”

Stiles rolled his eyes, because it figured that his Dad was even more clueless than he was about everything Creature. “The two of them are pack-bonded, which means that they can’t be separated without the Beta dying. That’s right, isn’t it, Dr. Deaton?”

It was only because he was looking at him directly that Stiles noticed the effort it took the Doctor to paste a patient smile on his face. 

Gotcha. he thought gleefully. 

“Well,“ Deaton said after a pregnant pause. “That is essentially true, yes, though there are ways to get around that now.”

Emitting a deep growl, the Alpha tensed. 

“Sure,” Stiles said quickly, sensing a chance. “But it’s a complication, right? Maybe we just should take a step back here and think about whether or not this is really what we want, huh, Dad? I mean, do we really want to be responsible for breaking apart a pack? Let’s just go home, search for another Creature Pound and, I don’t know,  sleep on it or something?”

“We’ll take them both.”

Stiles did a double-take, gaping at his Dad. “We’re going to do what, now?” he squeaked.

Nodding absently, his Dad had a speculating gleam in his eyes. “That actually works out perfectly. The younger one…“ Hesitating, he looked invitingly at Dr. Deaton.

“Lahey,” Deaton said, after a beat. “Isaac Lahey.”

“Right. So Isaac can accompany Stiles to school and have an eye on him there, while Derek  stays with me. Am I correct in my understanding that the bond will encompass any pack-members of Derek’s?”

“Yes, in theory,” Dr. Deaton said haltingly and Stiles had a feeling that he was as unhappy with this development as he was. Which, in turn, lifted his own mood a little.

Not that it lasted long. By no later than the moment when Dr. Deaton said: “Let’s get on with it then,” forcing Derek out of the cell and to the ground in the middle of the room, every single last smidgen of amusement he felt was replaced by sheer terror.

Breathlessly he watched as, with hands soaked in a mixture of wolfsbane and mountain ash, Deaton grabbed hold of the kneeling Alpha’s head, forcing it backwards. As he set the little flask he’d shown them earlier on Derek’s lips he bent down over him, speaking almost too quietly for Stiles to hear. 

“If you spit it out,” the Doctor said viciously, “I will make sure that living through old man Lahey’s abuse will be the least of your little Betas’ worries.”

He gave Derek no chance to respond, instead tipping the flask and letting the sour-smelling potion trickle into Derek’s mouth.

Stiles swallowed hard, a strong wave of nausea washing over him. Everything in him rebelled at what was going on here, at what he was forced to do to another human being. To force something special, something sacred like the mating bond against a ‘wolf like this…

Wheezing, Stiles turned away, bumping into his Dad in the process. He felt his Dad’s arm come around him but didn’t react to it, all he could see was Isaac’s horrified face as he watched his Alpha being violated on the deepest level imaginable. 

“Dad,” he moaned, desperate in his helplessness. “Please, we can’t…”

“It’s the only way,” he heard his Dad breathe, barely audible. “They’re going to kill him if we don’t.”

Head snapping up, he searched his Dad’s face, desperately looking for a hint that would give away a lie. There were none. 

With a choked sigh that almost came out a sob, Stiles made himself face the horrifying spectacle, prepared to at least do the only thing he could do – bear witness.

Still, nothing could have prepared him for the sound the Alpha made as the liquid wolfsbane was forced down his throat. It was a sound that would Stiles haunt for the rest of his life, so full of agony that all the hair on his body stood up straight and a shiver ran down his spine.

Behind him, Isaac was letting out small mewls of empathy as Derek keened and collapsed in on himself, shaking, his eyes flashing red.

“Now!” Deaton cried out, pulling Stiles forward by one arm. “You have to get in his space now, force him to yield.”

Stumbling slightly, Stiles dropped to his knees beside Derek. He could actually see the dark lines on the ‘wolf’s skin as his body reacted violently to the poison running through its veins.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered as he pressed closer, pushing his face into the crook of his neck, shoving aside the tattered shirt Derek was wearing to get more skin-on-skin contact. It was crucial for the process, he knew that, and still it felt wrong to basically climb into the Alpha’s lap and force intimacy like this. 

Even when Derek began to react and pulled him closer, strong arms coming around him, it still wasn’t really Derek who did it. It was the ‘wolf, reacting to the drug-induced illusion of Stiles being a compatible mate. The thought disgusted Stiles so much that he actually began to pull back, but Derek wouldn’t let that happen.

With a growl, he surged forward, effectively trapping Stiles where he was. He began scenting Stiles’ throat, low desperate sounds forcing its way out of his mouth, his breath hot on Stiles’ skin.

“Shhh,” Stiles murmured, helplessly running his hands down Derek’s shoulder, back and arm. He had no idea what he was doing or what was expected of him. The only thing that made sense right now though, was to touch Derek wherever possible. It was like a compulsion, an urge that took hold of him suddenly. There was a strange pressure on his chest, like an ache deep inside that could only be soothed by feeling Derek’s heartbeat where it pounded under his skin.

Derek shuddered against him suddenly and a second later, Stiles moaned as a sharp stinging pain went through his head. “Ugh,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He was concentrating too hard on not throwing up from the pain to notice the first stirrings of the pack-bond. 

He only registered that something was different when his Dad made a startled sound and a second later, awareness flooded through Stiles’ consciousness, stealing his breath. It was uncomfortable at first, the sensation almost too much. He could make out different sets of emotions that weren’t his own, even though he couldn’t quite match them to individuals right away. 

Trying to focus was hard, mostly because it was still so alien to feel other people’s feelings as if they were his own – especially that of his Dad, because, weird - but also because Derek was still treating him as his personal cuddle-toy, and with every second that passed, Stiles was becoming more and more aware of the compactly muscled body he was currently resting on. 

Sure, they were bonded now, but really, the last thing he wanted was for Derek to realize that Stiles wanted to lick him all over. And wow, where the hell had that come from?

A distraction, that was definitely what he needed. Looking around, severely hampered by the way Derek kept holding on to him, his eyes finally settled on Isaac. The young Beta was staring at them, apparently spellbound by the spectacle they presented. When he noticed that Stiles had caught him looking, he blushed a bright red. Then he sniffed the air little and his eyes grew wide. Never looking away from Stiles’ face, he sniffed again and then, to his surprise, he gave Stiles a wide, cheeky grin.

It took Stiles a moment to catch on. When he did, it was his turn for color to rise in his cheeks.

“Damned werewolf senses,” he muttered, praying that Derek was still too deep in his bonding-trance to notice his little, uh, problem. Except that it wasn’t so little, thank you very much. “Shut up,” he told his mind sternly then.

He had no idea how long they kept sitting there. By the time Derek began to stir beneath him, Stiles’ legs were asleep and he badly had to pee. “You about done now?” he said, feeling generally uncomfortable and out of his depths and it came out a little more sharply than he intended. 

Derek pulled back, his face unreadable. There was no direct answer to his question, but when Stiles got up with a groan of pain, his legs prickling as feeling returned, Derek helped him upright without raising his eyebrows even a little.

“This is it then,” Dr. Deaton said cheerfully, prompting Derek to tense and bare his teeth. “Everything seems to have worked perfectly, not that I had any doubts it would. Congratulations on your new pack.” 

Stiles sent him a death-glare and let his Dad exchange pleasantries with the Doctor. All he wanted was to get out of this place, away from the sickly sweet smell of burning wolfsbane that lingered even though the oil burners had gone out sometime ago. 

He didn’t like how Deaton kept looking at Isaac at all, like he was a particular tasty treat. He didn’t like how the Doctor’s hand kept hovering over his coat pocket either, twitching whenever Derek so much as moved. He didn’t even want to begin to guess what he had in that innocuous-looking patch pocket, but based on recent events, it couldn’t be good.

“Out,” Stiles said then, surprised by the authoritative tone to his voice. He was even more surprised when both of his charges moved without hesitation. Though Derek did/i> keep his body between Stiles and the Doctor. 

A moment later, they were standing outside the old animal clinic in drizzling rain, the air cold enough that their breaths formed white clouds. Stiles took a deep, calming breath, his nerves still a bit raw. 

Still shaken as he was by everything that had happened, it took Stiles a moment to realize that Derek was still holding on to his forearm a little too tightly for comfort. “Oi, watch it,” he said, shaking himself loose. Derek pulled back from him completely, looking discomfited and ill at ease as he crossed his arms, glaring at nothing in particular. 

Stiles immediately regretted the distance between them, especially when he noticed the tremors still running through Derek’s broad frame. “You okay?” He murmured, taken aback by the startled surprise that appeared on Derek’s face. It was a weaker version of the expression that grazed Isaac’s face when his Dad finally joined them and without comment gave him his jacket so that he could cover up the dirty shirt he was wearing. 

Kindness, it seemed, wasn’t something the two ‘wolves were used to. 

“Come on, kids, the car’s a bit up the road,” his Dad said, shoving his hands under his armpits after handing over two small bags to Derek. Stiles stared at them, realizing that they probably held everything the two ‘wolves owned.

“You’re cold,” Isaac murmured as he watched his Dad shiver a little, already shrugging out of the thick coat. 

“No, you keep it,” his Dad said. “You’ve been exposed to a lot of crap in there, don’t want you to get sick.”

The look Isaac gave him then was a mixture of distrust, hope and the kind of astonished awe Stiles began to realize was pure Isaac. He watched the two of them walk side by side, strangely touched. Well, he’d always wanted a brother anyway, so there.

Falling into step with Derek, they followed their two new packmates at a distance. There seemed to be a lot of spontaneous bonding going on and it made Stiles’ head spin. An hour ago he’d still been fighting the very idea of taking home a Creature citizen and now he had two of them tied to him indefinitely.

“Thank you.”

Stunned at the quiet words, startled out of deep though, Stiles almost stopped short. “Uh, did you just talk to me? Voluntarily?”

The Alpha - Derek, he really should start working on using his name on a regular basis – just looked at him impassively, but there was a tension around his eyes that spoke of his true state of mind. “Yes. Thank you, for what you did in there. For Isaac.”

“Yeah, well,” Stiles stuttered, feeling a blush creep up on his cheeks. “I didn’t do it for altruistic reasons, believe me. Unfortunately, that didn’t quite go according to plan.”

“Whatever,” Derek mumbled around clenched teeth. “You still saved him.”

Something in his voice gave Stiles pause. He got a snippet of honest emotion through the bond and almost gasped at the pure disgust he could feel. Though it wasn’t directed at him, it still left a bad taste in the back of his throat. There were things going on here that he didn’t understand and a lot of them had to do with why Derek and Isaac had been Impounded in the first place. 

The questions running through his mind distracted him enough that he didn’t even protest when Derek automatically got in the front seat, leaving Isaac and him to cram in the back together with boxes full of case files and what seemed like an avalanche of take-out wrappers. 

Stiles took note of them, meeting his Dad’s gaze in the rearview mirror and gave him the ‘we will talk about this’ eyebrow. He looked away only after he was satisfied that the man had gotten the message. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Isaac watching the wordless exchange with a confused frown but he was too tired to get into the complicated Stilinski family dynamics right then. He settled on giving Isaac a wink, smirking when the Beta blushed and looked away quickly. 

As soon they got home, Stiles made a beeline for the shower. “Gotta get the stink of that place off of me,” he said, wrinkling his nose as he sniffed at his shirt. “I never knew desolation had a smell, but ugh, it’s disgusting!”

“Yeah,” his Dad said slowly. “Don’t you think we should get our new roommates get settled in first? Isaac, why don’t you put your stuff in the guest room, upstairs, first door on the right?”

Nodding slowly, Isaac grabbed the small bag holding all his belongings and slinked upstairs. It hit Stiles then, that they were going to live together with two werewolves. To which they were bonded. For life. 

“Uh,” what was made it out of his mouth through the jumbled thoughts. “Dad, um, where is Derek going to sleep? I mean, have you thought this through properly, like, at all? There is barely enough space here for the two of us and you know how it is in the mornings when you’ve got the early shift and I have to get ready for school at the same time; and seeing that Isaac is in my grade we’ll probably share the same classes and—“

“Stiles, breathe,” his Dad said. “Look, it’s getting kind of late. We’ll figure out the logistics in the morning. I’m sure Derek won’t mind spending the first night on the couch, do you?”

Derek shook his head, looking uncomfortable. “No, I don’t mind. Sir.”

Stiles watched his Dad sigh deeply, regret flashing over his face. “You don’t have to call me Sir, Derek. I don’t know if you remember, but I knew your father very well. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you, after… after.”

Derek stared into space with a stony expression. “Yes, Sir. Too bad, Sir.”

Shaking his head slowly, his Dad gave a tired sigh. “All right then, if that’s how you want to do this then that’s fine by me. I just thought you’d might want to talk about your family with someone that actually knew them. I’m very sorry about Laura, by the way. She was a good girl.”

Derek swallowed hard, but his face betrayed nothing. 

After a couple of seconds, his Dad seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to get an answer and sighed again. “I don’t know about you, guys, but I’m starving. How about we make this a special occasion and order in pizza?” Stiles drew in a breath to protest, but clamped his mouth shut when he got a good look at his Dad’s face. Maybe he wasn’t the only one at the end of his rope today. If a little grease on crust would get that pinched look on his face to ease a little, who was he to stand in the way of that?

“Only this once,” he argued nonetheless. “And we’ll order salads.”

“Deal!” his Dad said quickly.

Stiles narrowed his eyes, getting the distinct feeling that he’d just been played. He returned his Dad’s happy grin with an exasperated one of his own. “You go order,” he said, resigning himself to a lost day, cholesterol-wise. “A lot of meat for the carnivores and one with olives and goat cheese for me. Come on, Derek, I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep.”

Half-listening to his Dad ordering half of Messy Joe’s menue, he absently pulled a bedsheet and a spare blanket out of a drawer. “We’ll have to find you a pillow somewhere, maybe Isaac has a spare one in the guest room…”

“He’s fine, you know,” Derek said, a propos of nothing.

“Huh?”

“Your Dad. He is perfectly healthy. There is nothing wrong with his heart and he doesn’t smell like disease at all.”

“That,” Stiles mumbled, stunned. He kept staring at Derek and couldn’t make himself stop. He wondered if Derek even had an idea of what this meant to him. “That is great to know.” The words felt inadequate. Still, he was pretty sure that Derek would not react kindly to him throwing himself at him, so Stiles cleared his throat and said lightly: “Even though, ew, did you actually smell my Dad?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “There somewhere I can wash up before dinner?”

Stiles grinned at Derek’s deliberate nonchalance. “Why don’t you take a shower instead? You need it.”

Derek looked insulted and more than a little pissed off and Stiles couldn’t help but poke him a little more. “You got everything you need?” he asked innocently, smiling guilelessly as Derek’s eyes narrowed. “If not that’s no problem, soap and stuff is in the bathroom, just take everything you need. Towels are on the bottom shelf and I’ll get you something to wear for after, since I don’t think that bag holds more than a pair of undies, if that.”

“They took everything away,” Derek growled. 

“Yeah well, as I said, no problem. I’ll go scrounge up one of Dad’s sweatpants,” Stiles smirked. “You can even sniff it if you want!” He jumped out of Derek’s reach and raced up the stairs, cackling.

He heard Derek grumble something about “ripping his throat out, with my teeth” and kept grinning as he grabbed some stuff for Derek to wear. Passing the guest room, he called in a quick, “Dinner’s in a bit. Come downstairs when you’re done.”

The evening consisted mostly of bathroom negotiations, awkward conversation and the oddly fascinating sight of two grown, half-starved werewolves work their way through three jumbo pizzas. At some point, Stiles had found himself staring at Isaac as he folded up a piece squarely in the middle and shoved almost the whole thing in, scarfing it in two big bites. 

“That can’t be healthy,” his Dad had murmured and Stiles nodded agreement.

They called it a day relatively early, all of them exhausted. Despite everything, Stiles was strangely reluctant to separate from his two ‘wolves. In part, that was due to the bond, he knew, the newness of it making the connection feel raw and unfinished. Though a lot of his unwillingness to go also had to do with the fierce feelings of sympathy and protectiveness that had come over him sometime between Derek having to pound Isaac’s back to keep him from choking on a piece of crust and that moment when he saw Derek root around in his small duffle bag and got a glimpse at the singed remains of what once was a family portrait. It wasn’t one of those staged, and-now-everybody-smile pictures, but rather a snapshot taken at an outing of some sorts. The people in it were all dark-haired, good-looking and smiling widely at whoever had held the camera.

The question was at the tip of his tongue, but the look on Derek’s face was downright hostile, and – bond or not – he didn’t trust the ‘wolf yet to keep his temper in check. He backed away, getting himself ready for bed, trying to remember the details of what had happened to the Hales. Of course he knew about the fire; everybody in Beacon Hills did. 

It’d become a cautionary tale, something the CPA committee used as an example whenever doubts arose about their raison d’être. Nobody had ever been able to figure out what had really happened ten years ago, not even when Allison’s aunt Kate had died under mysterious circumstances a few years after the fire. 

Deciding that he had to do some research on the whole thing, if only so that he wouldn’t be blindsided by anything coming up with Derek, Stiles put his toothbrush away and ran a hand through his short-cropped hair, grimacing at his reflection.

Walking to his room without bothering to switch on the light, it happened by accident that he stumbled into the slightly ajar guest-room door. As it slid open a bit, Stiles froze at what he saw. There was Isaac lying on the bed, dressed in a Beacon Hills Lacrosse T-Shirt that was at least two sizes too big on him and a faded pair of sweat pants that had clearly seen better times. His hair was tousled and wet at the edges from his shower and he looked unbelievably young like this.

That wasn’t what had Stiles’ breath catch in his throat though. Isaac was lying on the bed with his head on Derek’s thigh, the older ‘wolf slowly combing the fingers of one hand through the damp curls. Isaac had his eyes closed and was half-asleep, his breathing deep and regular,  but Derek was wide awake and staring out of the window. He looked pensive and sad, and strangely vulnerable, as if the moonlight that touched him had stripped away all of his defenses.

Before he could be noticed, Stiles slipped away. He went to bed, lying awake for a long time, refusing to admit even to himself that what he’d felt as he watched the two ‘wolves together had been envy.

 

* * *

 

Stiles startled awake, an urgent sense of danger pushing the last vestiges of sleep from his mind. He flailed upright, hands waving in front of his face in vague facsimiles of actual Kung Fu moves.

“That is just pathetic,” a voice said from the dark, sounding amused.

“Huh?” Stiles made, squinting to see more details of the man standing beside his window. Automatically, he reached to switch on the bedside lamp, blinking in the sudden glare.

“So, you’re my nephew’s mate,” the stranger said, totally unconcerned by the fact that Stiles could now see his face. He looked familiar, but only vaguely so. Handsome, but with a wild look to him that Stiles didn’t like one bit. “For some reason I’ve imagined you less…” The man made a vague see-saw gesture with his hand. 

“Puny?” Stiles asked dryly, still coming to terms with the fact that there was a stranger in his bedroom, watching him sleep.

“I was going for human, but yeah, puny works as well,” the man said with a quiet laugh.

His brain going online suddenly, Stiles gasped. “You’re Peter Hale! You’re supposed to be in a coma!”

“Well, yes. I was, but that got dreadfully boring after a while. Can you imagine the sheer frustration of having endless conversations with one’s own self? There’s just no winning with that guy!” 

Stiles stared.

After a beat, Peter rolled his eyes. “You could at least have given me a pity laugh.”

“Um,” Stiles said. “Haha?”

“Right. Enough small talk.“ Peter stepped closer, prompting Stiles to scoot back towards the headboard.

Holding his hands up, Peter smirked at him. “No reason to go all tense now,” he said, mildly. “If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead.” He gave a wide smile, suddenly extended canines glistening wetly, his eyes glowing a dull red. 

Stiles gulped, adrenaline coursing through his veins. On instinct, he tapped on the bond, projecting pure terror 

As if reading his mind, Peter huffed: “Don’t even try. Derek won’t be able to, well, hear you, for lack of a better term.”

“How?” Stiles breathed, finding something blocking the still-so-new connection. It felt alien, this total emptiness, even though he’d only been pack-bonded for a few hours.

“Ah,” the older Alpha murmured, running a clawed finder gently along the top of Stiles’ blanket. “See, there are a lot of things that Derek doesn’t know. I guess that happens when one lets the gift lie dormant for so long.”

Confused, Stiles shook his head. “What do you mean? There is nothing dormant about Derek’s wolf at all.”

“Yeah,” Peter agreed. “Now there isn’t.”

Stirring restlessly, Stiles let his right hand drop to the mattress. “What exactly is it that you want, Mr. Hale?”

“Oh, stop it. Can’t a guy just visit his favorite nephew’s new mate without it being a big affair?”

“Not when said nephew just spent two weeks in a Creature Pound being tortured. Where were you then, huh?”

“There was nothing I could have done – Stiles, is it?” Peter’s voice sounded so sincere that Stiles grimaced. “I wasn’t feeling very well at the time and you must have seen how tight security in those horrible places is.”

“Right,” Stiles sniffed. “So what’s this then, you going to ask me what my intentions are towards Derek?”

Peter grinned in a way that could only be described as wolfish – pun totally intended. “Something like that,” he said. “I just wanted to check on him for myself. Call it sentimentality, if you like. There was a time when Derek and I were on very good terms with each other.”

Stiles snorted, his hand inching under the pillow. “Oh yeah? What happened? Did you run over his dog or something?”

Peter let out a startled laugh. “I see why he likes you. You’ve got spunk.”

Stiles grinned. “Oh, I’ve got more than that,” he said, his hand shooting up in one swift move. The pepper spray in his hand hissed as it released a stinging cloud right into Peter’s face. The Alpha howled in pain, striking out blindly and knocking the spray out of Stiles’ hand, just as the door was kicked in violently.

“Peter!” Derek roared, wolfed out and as menacing as Stiles had ever seen him. Peter crouched, snarling in Derek’s general direction and was out the window and gone before Stiles could even blink.

“Huh,” he murmured, setting the pepper spray on the nightstand with shaking hands. “That was interesting.”

“Are you okay?” Derek asked urgently, his eyes still shining a deep red. Stiles found himself thinking that the red looked a lot better on Derek than it had on his Uncle. “Stiles. Did he hurt you?”

Suddenly, Derek was right there, scrutinizing him. Stiles swatted him away, getting out of bed on weak knees, stumbling towards the door where he greeted his barely-awake gun-toting Dad as calmly as he could. “Nursery,” he said. 

His Dad stopped short. “You sure?”

Stiles nodded, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. We had a visitor, but Derek has it all under control. Go back to bed, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Oh,” his Dad murmured, yawning. “Alright then.” He leaned forward and gave Stiles a tight hug, kissing him on the head as he’d done when Stiles was little. “You’re so much like your Mum sometimes…” He trailed off, that particular wound still raw, even years after her death.

“I love you,” Stiles said softly, blushing a little as he remembered their audience. 

Smiling, his Dad turned, gesturing at something as he did. Belatedly, Stiles realized that Isaac was standing beside his door in the dark hallway, only the yellow glow of his eyes visible. Before he could say anything, the Beta was gone. 

Turning, Stiles let out a deep breath, shaking himself like a wet dog. “Right. ”

Derek was looking at him like he was trying to figure something out. “You and your Dad have safewords?” He didn’t sound as contemptuous as Stiles would have expected him to, merely curious.

Stiles felt himself blushing. “Yeah, uh, that was actually kind of my thing? I had a phase where I was afraid of home invasions a lot. They did come in handy tonight, huh?”

Derek inclined his head, leaning against the windowsill with his back towards the window. He seemed to be wide awake and had so from the moment he’d burst into the room. Stiles wondered idly if he’d slept at all. 

Checking himself – nope, no sleepiness at all – he clapped his hands together. “So, since we’re both awake now, we might as well talk. I mean, it’s not like you’ve got anything better to do, right?”

“I was thinking about clipping my nails, actually,” Derek said grimly.

“Ha!” Stiles crowed, adrenaline-residue making him giddy. “That was almost a joke!”

Derek rolled his eyes, but half of his attention was still on the open window. 

“What I want to know,” Stiles continued in an even tone, “is why your Uncle – who is a major creep by the way – thinks it’s A-OK to loom over me in the middle of the night, asking me random questions as if we were at a Sunday brunch?”

“He had his reasons. My Uncle never does anything that doesn’t serve a purpose.”

Stiles frowned, playing Devil’s Advocate. “Maybe he did only want to check up on you.”

“I don’t think so. He is…” Derek hesitated.

“Totally nuts?” Stiles suggested.

“Not quite sane,” was what Derek finally settled on.

“You can say that again. At one point I was sure he was going to kill me. And possibly eat me.”

Derek grimaced, rolling his shoulders restlessly. “He wouldn’t have done that.”

Stiles grabbed one of his sweaters, pulling it on over his thin T-Shirt and sat on the bed. “And what makes you so sure about that? Last time I checked, sociopaths are not exactly known for their predictability.” Thinking that over, Stiles cocked his head. “Let me rephrase that. What makes you think that you know what goes on in your crazy Uncle’s head?”

Derek sighed. “It’s a ‘wolf thing,” he said after a while.

Mulling that over, Stiles chewed on one of the strings on his sweater. “So it’s intuition,” he guessed.

Derek grimaced. “It’s more than that. No matter what he’s done, Peter is family. That means something.”

“Oh,” Stiles breathed. “Is he pack?”

“No,” Derek said firmly, a hint of disgust in his voice. 

He didn’t elaborate. After a moment of awkward silence in which Stiles frantically tried to think of anything else to talk about – because for some reason, he didn’t think that his Scott approved ‘and what did you do the last full moon’ would work as well as a conversational gambit right now – Stiles suddenly remembered something. “Hey, uh, what did Peter mean then, when he said that you didn’t know certain things about the bond? He kept blabbing about your gift” he made ironic little airquotes around the word, rolling his eyes for emphasis, “lying dormant. What the hell was that about?”

Derek’s face soured. “That is none of your business,” he said coldly.

“The hell it isn’t!” Stiles floundered, leaning forward. He tried to keep his voice down, but was failing to do so as he continued to make his point heatedly. “As you may recall we’re in this together, Derek. Whatever happens to you affects me as well and today, someone forced his way in here and used the bond against us to achieve that. Don’t you think it’s in my best interest to know as much about this as possible? And you should, too, you’re here to protect me after all!”

The moment the words left his mouth, Stiles wished he could take them back. What little emotion Derek had allowed him to see vanished as if it’d never been there. His back was suddenly ramrod straight and as Stiles watched regretfully, Derek inclined his head as if affirming something to himself.

“I see,” he said evenly. “I guess I’ll go to bed then. Need to be fresh for my job tomorrow.”

“Derek…” 

“Good night, Stiles.”

“No, please!” Stiles scrambled upright, almost faceplanting into his desk as his foot caught in the blanket. With flailing arms he managed to keep his balance and jump in Derek’s way--

\--who hadn’t moved an inch and instead was watching him with a raised eyebrow and an unreadable expression. Not to be deterred by the non-reaction to his plight, Stiles kept going until he was close enough that his outstretched hand brushed Derek’s chest. 

“That came out wrong, I’m sorry,” Stiles pleaded, never breaking his gaze. “I just don’t get it, you know? Everything is changing so fast and maybe you hadn’t noticed because I’m an awesome actor, but I was a little, uh, concerned earlier--”

“You were shit-scared.”

Stiles frowned at the interjection, but was glad to see some of the tension in Derek’s body ease. “Well, yeah, I was,” he admitted, “and it really put me off balance and that’s why I said what I did even though I don’t mean it.”

Derek looked solemn. “Alright.” 

Staring at him, Stiles gaped. “Alright. Alright? That’s it?”

“What do you want?” Derek growled. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” Stiles bitched. “How about an explanation? Or at least for you to tell me what to look for in my internet search since I don’t think that typing in ‘bonding gone wrong’ is going to get me the kind of results I’m looking for. I could have died tonight and here you are, all kinds of serene and shit!”

“Peter. Wouldn’t. Have. Killed. You,” Derek said slowly, as if talking to a child.

“But I didn’t know that!” Stiles shot back angrily. “And I still don’t because for some reason, you’re not telling me anything!”

They kept staring at each other, both stubborn enough that the standoff lasted a long time. Surprisingly, it was Derek who looked away first, letting out an explosive breath. His eyebrows did a complicated dance that Stiles watched in fascination. The expression that finally settled on his face was a mix of apprehension and determined tenacity.

Whatever this was he’d inadvertently stumbled over, it was big. Stiles waited with bated breath, suddenly not so sure anymore that he even wanted to know.

When Derek finally did speak, the words came spitting out suddenly, as if they were poisonous. “He killed my sister.”

The pain in his voice was unfettered and it felt like a punch in the gut, amplified as it was through the bond. “He,” Stiles stuttered, flabbergasted. “’He’ – as in your Uncle ‘he’?”

“Laura insisted on going back, as soon as she heard of the first attacks,” Derek kept on talking as if he hadn’t spoken, staring at something behind Stiles’ left shoulder. “She wanted me to come with her, but I hadn’t changed in almost three years and I wasn’t keen on having it all shoved in my face again. What she didn’t know was that my institutionalized Uncle had staged it all so that he could kill her and take over as Alpha. She was a pawn in his plan, nothing more, and he sacrificed her without second thought.”

Stiles gulped, horrified by what he’d just heard, by what it revealed about Derek’s state of mind. 

But Derek wasn’t done yet. “I felt it,” he said in a hollow voice. “I felt her die through the bond and him returning to it. We are blood-related, so that much is inevitable, but he will never be a part of my pack, or I a part of his.” He glanced at Stiles then, a wealth of pain in their green-blue depths. “I came back here, and I killed him, and buried him, but it wouldn’t be Peter if he didn’t have at least one trick up his sleeve. He used a girl, an Immunis, and forged a connection with her. She helped him set up a trap for me.”

“What did he do?” Stiles breathed, mind reeling.

Derek shrugged. “Siphoned most of my life-energy into himself and left me to die in our old house,” he answered tonelessly.

“Oh my god,” Stiles couldn’t stop himself from saying. “no wonder you’re so fucked up!”

That earned him a snort and a muttered: “Watch it,” though Stiles was glad to see a little bit of life return to Derek’s bleak eyes. He didn’t look as relieved as Stiles thought he had a right to after getting all that off his chest, though, and he had the distinct feeling that there was even more to the story. 

All of a sudden he realized that at sometime during the exchange, he had pressed the palm of his hand to Derek’s chest, right over his heart. Flushing, Stiles stared down at it, noticing the firmness of muscles and the warmth of Derek’s skin through the thin layer of cotton. 

A low thrum of arousal began to pulse through him. It wasn’t so strong as to be overwhelmingly obvious, but it made Stiles uncomfortable enough that he stepped back and lowered his hand. He cleared his throat, embarrassed by his reaction to the innocent contact.

“So, uh,” he said, mostly to distract himself. “Do you have any idea how Peter jammed the bond?”

“He didn’t,” Derek answered. “He superimposed it with the remnants of our blood bond. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh, yeah?” Stiles snorted. “And how are you going to manage that, huh, Mr. Expert? Last time I checked, you weren’t exactly the go-to man on all things Lycanthropy.”

“Stiles,” Derek snarled, obviously at the end of his rope for the time being. “Will you just trust me on this?”

Snapping his mouth shut to keep the inevitable quip from spilling out, Stiles leaned his head to the side. “You know,“ he replied conversationally, “I actually do. Trust you, I mean. Is that weird? I’m pretty sure it is, I’ve only met you, like, half a day ago and here I am placing my life into your hands. But hey, this is me, every day throwing me a curveball, nothing new there.”

The look Derek threw him reminded Stiles vaguely of the one the Coach always gave him just before making him run laps round the field. He was pretty sure he was going to get hit instead, and tried to twist and offer his more-robust-than-it-looked arm as subtly as he could.

Which unfortunately made him look like a drunk ice dancer, he noticed in his reflection in the window. It also prompted Derek to look at him pityingly. “Bed now,” was what he said though, and Stiles’ mind immediately went there. 

Fighting to keep a tell-tale blush off his face, he nodded. “Sure, yes,” he stammered. “We both should. Go to bed. Different beds though. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Derek grumbled and turned to go.

“Derek.” 

Stiles hesitated. “I just wanted to say that… I guess, that, I’m sorry? About what happened to you and your family, obviously, but mostly because of all this.” He waggled a hand between them.

Derek shrugged. “Not your fault,” he grunted. 

“It kind of is, though,” Stiles insisted, guilt choking him. “If I hadn’t been such a dumbass about the whole full moon thing with Scott, maybe you wouldn’t be stuck with a fake mate now.”

Derek grimaced. “Again, not your fault. You were very vocal about your dislike of the whole situation.”

Stiles nodded, a little surprised that Derek had remembered that. “There was a boy,” he began, unprompted. He figured that if sharing a little bit of his own drama would make things a little easier for Derek, then that was a small price to pay. “We were friends in middle school. His name was Matt, Matt Daehler. When he was younger he’d almost drowned and that had damaged his lungs. 

“It got so bad that it had to be either the bite or a transplant. I remember Camden – that was his brother – arguing with their Dad about that a lot. He was against the bite, thought that Matt wouldn’t be able to handle it. He was right.” Stiles took a deep breath, the memories threatening to overwhelm him. “The CPA committee urged Mr. Daehler to let Matt be turned. That was right in the beginning of their New Life campaign, you know, and they were desperate to push the numbers up.” More so, the CPA had just realized how useful a contracted army of grateful formerly ill Creature citizens could be, but Stiles didn’t say that. He was sure that if anybody knew the truth, it would be Derek.

“Long story short,” he continued bitterly, “his Dad caved and Matt died, ten hours after he was bitten.”

Derek just looked at him. There wasn’t any judgement in his gaze, nor pity. “Go to sleep,” he said simply.

A little disappointed, Stiles nodded, despite being very sure that he wouldn’t actually be able to fall asleep anytime soon. Too much was going on in his brain for him to be able to relax. He didn’t really know what he’d expected after sharing Matt’s story; after all, empathy didn’t seem to be Derek’s strong suit. 

He’d wait until Derek was gone and maybe he’d get some of that research done right away. Insomnia had its uses and Stiles was very familiar with that affliction. 

Looking at him closely however, Derek frowned. “Stiles. I mean it. Sleep.”

Even as he spoke, a heavy sort of lethargy swept over Stiles and he sat down heavily on his bed. Distantly, Stiles realized that Derek was doing something to the bond and his curiosity and excitement over that was almost enough to shake off the fatigue. 

Derek let out a growl and a moment later, Stiles couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. He sighed and would have fallen right off the edge of his bed, but was caught and placed right in the middle. “Thanks,” he mumbled, snuggling deeper into the blanket that was draped over him. 

For a moment there was warmth on his cheek, but it was gone too quickly to really register. In the morning, he would remember the moment and think it a dream.

 

* * *

“No, really, it’s gonna be great!” Stiles urged, suppressing a grin as Isaac unconsciously mirrored Derek’s pose. They were both standing in his room, balanced on their heels with their arms defiantly crossed in front of them. It made Stiles wish for a camera.

“That,” his Dad said from the doorway, “is the worst idea you have had yet. And I’m including that one time you thought macaroni with blue cheese would taste terrific.”

Stiles groaned. “Jeez, Dad, are you ever going to get over that? So it wasn’t my best culinary invention, it was still edible, though. And you did like my asparagus cake now, didn’t you?”

“Strangely enough, I did,” his Dad murmured. “But don’t think for a second that I’m forgetting what the real issue is here.”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles whined in his brattiest ton of voice, “it’ll be fun! And it’s not like I’m going to invite the whole school. I just think that having Derek and Isaac catch the scent of my friends under non-threatening circumstances would be good.” He grinned widely. “Isaac agrees with me.”

Sputtering, Isaac’s face went from bright red to white in a matter of seconds as he looked frantically between Derek, Stiles and his Dad. “I, I didn’t… I wouldn’t…”

“Oh, don’t get worked up now, Isaac,” his Dad interjected, frowning at him. “Stiles is just messing with you, aren’t you, son?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Stiles said with a laugh, giving Isaac a wink. “Better get used to it, ‘Zac, ‘cause it’s not like I’m going to stop anytime soon. It’s just too much fun. Back to the topic at hand, though, don’t you think you should at least get to know Scott and the others?” He directed his words at Derek, who looked about as grumpy as he usually did, only with a bit more annoyance added to the mix.

Waiting for a reply obviously wasn’t the way to go here. “It’s just a little BBQ, you guys,” he cajoled. “Lots of red meat, a few beers-“ catching sight of his Dad’s expression he amended, “or, err, sodas; a little bit of conversation, what could possibly go wrong?”

“You just had to say it, didn’t you?”

Stiles grinned up at his Dad. “Superstitious much?”

Sighing, his Dad scrubbed a hand over his face. “What do you think, Derek? Think you can handle a horde of teenagers taking over our backyard for a couple of hours?”

Visibly surprised at being included in the decision-making, Derek gave a slow nod. “No games.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he answered brightly. “Party pooper,” he mumbled under his breath.

“So how many people are we talking about?” his Dad asked, sounding preoccupied. Knowing him, he was already planning things like seating accommodations and where to get fresh boar at this time of year. For all his token protests, his Dad actually loved parties of all kinds.

He did a quick count in his head. “About ten, including us.”

Derek’s eyebrow rose. “I didn’t know you had this many friends,” he commented dryly.

“Hey!” Stiles said, insulted.

Derek just kept looking at him.

“Ugh, okay, I don’t,” Stiles huffed finally, annoyed with himself for admitting that. “But if I invite Lydia - which I’m totally going to do since we’re finally on a basis where she knows me by name – I’ll have to invite Danny, cause she goes nowhere without him.”

Isaac made an inquiring noise. 

Stiles grimaced.  “She’s his faghag and he is her, uh, gay BFF, I guess,” he explained. “They’re inseparable. Anyway, the most important person in this whole shindig is Scott, we’ve been best friends since the beginning of time. Unfortunately, he has a plus one as well. I mean,” he backpedaled, realizing how that sounded. “Not that I don’t like Allison, because I do! She’s really nice and smells good and…” He let the words trail off. “I’m not making this any better, am I?”

Judging by the matching grins on his Dad and Isaac’s faces, that was more than true. Even Derek looked a little less like he was about to murder someone in cold blood. 

“So who are the other two?” Isaac asked and Stiles looked at him in surprise. It wasn’t often that the other boy felt comfortable enough to participate actively in a conversation.

“That’d be Boyd and Erica,” he said. “They’re ‘wolves as well. I thought it’d be nice for you guys to get to know each other. They’re an item and very much in lurve, but other than that they’re really fun to be around.”

“I know Erica,” Isaac said softly. “She was always nice to me.”

A mix of emotions swept over the bond, and once again Stiles got just a small glimpse into Isaac’s psyche. It wasn’t like it was with Derek, where even though the Alpha was about as open as a particularly emotionally constipated clam, they still had a sort of understanding based on what they’d told each other that first night. It wasn’t like Stiles had the older man figured out, far from it. But sometimes, for a few moments, he didn’t actually want to smash his head against a nearby flat surface whenever they talked.

“I’m glad, ‘Zac,” Stiles said finally. “I’m sure she will be very happy to see you too.”

Isaac shrugged, looking self-conscious. “I dunno,” he mumbled and leaned to the side a little, so that his elbow was brushing against Derek’s. Stiles had noticed that before, in all the ‘wolves he knew, that tendency to take comfort from physical contact. He’d also noticed that Derek wasn’t comfortable with it and had to make a conscious effort not to move away whenever Isaac initiated it. 

Even now, the Alpha stood stock-still, his body a line of tension not warranted by the small point of contact. Isaac, always susceptible to the moods of his Alpha, glanced at him and pulled back with a sigh. 

There was one time, when Derek allowed touches of all kinds. Well, maybe there were two, but he wasn’t going there, even in his own thoughts. Shaking off any inappropriate images, as he so often had, Stiles clapped his hands together. “Alright then!” He crowed, grinning as his audience winced. “Dad, why don’t we get started on the shopping list? There are all the boring details to be taken care of and I know for a fact that a certain someone left a little present outside for you, ‘Zac.”

Isaac’s head snapped up and he looked at Derek so pleadingly that the Alpha instantly caved. “Go on,” he grunted. “I’ll be there shortly.”

Isaac was gone in a flash, clattering down the stairs a second later, but Derek hesitated in Stiles’ doorway. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen,” his Dad murmured, after getting a good look at the Alpha. 

Stiles gulped, nervous all of a sudden. Nothing good ever came of that particular expression on Derek’s face. 

“You like Lydia,” was what came out of Derek’s mouth, after a beat.

Stiles scoffed. “Duh! She is like, the hottest girl in school, of course I like her!”

Derek scowled.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles amended. “I may kind of had a crush on her since the third grade. Happy, now?”

“Ecstatic,” Derek said through grinding teeth. For being the one who had initiated the conversation, he sure seemed to be reluctant to talk.

“Look,” Stiles said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “It’s not like I have a real shot with her anyway, so no reason to get your panties in a twist. I won’t just abandon you for some girl.”

A dark eyebrow rose and once again, Stiles mentally reviewed his own words. “Um. That didn’t come out right. But, err, how would that even work, even if, hypothetically, I were to date a girl named, for example, uh…”

“Lybia?” Derek suggested, deadly earnest.

“Sure, why not,” Stiles said, rolling his eyes. “So if I were to date this mystery girl named after a North African country, what if things went well with her? I understand that there are certain limitations to what the bond will allow you to do, but what about me?”

Derek looked like he was chewing on something sour. “It’s not a real bond, Stiles. Whatever you think you know about it, forget it.”

“Huh,” Stiles said. He knew he should be relieved that his dick’s happiness didn’t depend on the moods of a perpetual bad-tempered sourwolf, but for some strange reason he wasn’t. “Great,” he murmured. “So, theoretically, all the bases would be available for me and Lybia?”

“Yes,” Derek growled.

“Well, great then!” Stiles repeated with forced enthusiasm. “Good talk.”

Derek continued to stare at him, before suddenly, he did an about-face and strode out.

Stiles watched him go, feeling like he’d just missed something important.

* * *

He never actually meant to watch them. It was just that when he finally made himself go downstairs after his strange little chat with Derek, he could hear them outside and since they were enjoying his creation right now, he figured it was only fair that he got a little bit of entertainment out of it as well. 

So he leaned against the porch rail and watched them tumble about, mock-fighting more than seriously training. He’d seen Derek drive Isaac hard and this wasn’t like that at all, despite the throwing each other around and the sweat and the low grunts of effort. 

Come to think of it, watching this had a lot of things in common with gay porn. There was even nakedness going on, even though it was limited to Derek’s upper body. Derek’s muscly, gleaming, smooth-skinned upper body. 

Swallowing hard, Stiles had to look away for a moment to compose himself. This wasn’t the first time that he’d found himself attracted to another boy - man, he amended in his head – but it had never gone beyond a few stolen looks and the odd boner here and there. It was a different thing however to live with the object of one’s curiosity and have it tempt you day in and day out.

There was a gust of warm air, and then his jacket hit him in the face, startling him out of his thoughts. “Ugh, thanks, Dad,” he murmured, slipping into it gratefully despite his mocking tone. 

Coming to stand beside him, his Dad cradled a mug of hot coffee and together they watched the ‘wolves antics. 

“And how exactly did you come up with this?” His Dad gestured towards the small bags fixed to low and high-hanging branches of the one tree of undefined ilk that towered over their backyard. It had been there even before his parents had bought the house and it was old and gnarly, but sturdy enough to be able to take the weight of two grown ‘wolves climbing around in it.

“Cool, huh?” Stiles answered proudly, watching Isaac catch one of the bundles. There was an excited shout as he discovered the beef jerky in it and Stiles grinned. “I had Scott put them up for me. Made him roll around in a pile of dead leaves first, in case Derek would smell him.”

His Dad shot him an annoyed look. “I figured you had help since you were never fond of heights. That wasn’t what I asked though.”

Clearing his throat, Stiles quickly made sure that Derek was still occupied with trying to pin down a squirming Isaac. Which, yeah, gay porn, right here in his backyard. “I did a bit of research,” he hedged, hoping his Dad would get the hint and drop it. Of course, he wasn’t so lucky.

“Research?” his Dad repeated, a bit too loudly for Stiles’s taste. “What did you do, google ‘werewolf games’?”

“No, of course not,” Stiles protested, “sheesh, Dad, what do you take me for, an idiot?”

His Dad just looked at him, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Nice,” Stiles murmured. “Thanks a lot. I read about it in a book, okay? That old-fashioned enough for you?”

“A book?” 

Stiles pulled a face, squirming under his Dad’s assessing gaze. “Alright, it’s a book on dogs. I found it at Scott’s, remember the puppy he wanted but couldn’t get because of his asthma? They had a whole chapter on games and stuff and I figured it couldn’t hurt to try it out. We’re not supposed to let Isaac run yet and I could see him going stir-crazy stuck in the house as he was—“

“Stiles,” his Dad interrupted, grinning widely. “It’s fine. That was a nice thing of you to do and they’re obviously having fun. Well, as much fun as Derek ever allows himself to have at any point.”

Stiles nodded, flushing a little at the praise. “I had to change the game a little, obviously,” he offered. “As it turns out, dogs are actually not that bright. And apparently they’re not  fond of climbing trees either.”

“So I heard,” his Dad agreed with a chuckle. “About this book you read, there something in there that could help with that talking thing?”

“What talking thing?”

“The one Derek doesn’t do? I thought maybe you could give me a couple of hints since you seem to speak Murky Dismal fluently.” 

They grinned at each other, the last of the resentment Stiles had felt towards his Dad vanishing. There really was no point in holding on to it anyway. What was done was done and as he watched the two ‘wolves destroy their little garden, he couldn’t help but feel like it was meant to be. Isaac’s face was flushed and he was grinning as he tried to get around Derek. It was a far cry from the dirty and half-feral Creatures Stiles had first encountered.

What was even more unexpected was how fast he’d gotten used to them all living together, despite the cramped quarters. They just fit, the four of them, even if Derek’s word count stayed well under an averaged 200 a day and Isaac still flinched when his Dad raised his voice. 

How they’d managed to burrow themselves into his heart so deeply was astonishing, though he figured that the bond had something to do with that. That didn’t explain his sudden desire to play ‘wolf trainer, though, but maybe that was just him going insane. If that was the case it was too late anyway, Stiles concluded, going back to watching his charges.

It took surprisingly little time for all the little bags to be harvested. There was one that was particularly hard to get to however, too high up even for a ‘wolf to just jump up and on too thin a branch to go hand over hand on it. Scott had almost broken his neck getting it up there.

Watching them, Stiles cackled as Derek had to lift Isaac up over his head so that he could reach.

“Teamwork,” his Dad mumbled into his cup. “Nice touch.”

Stiles nodded, distracted by Derek’s straining biceps. A moment later, there was a whoop and suddenly, Isaac hit the ground running. The Beta was a dark blur he was moving so fast and then, Stiles had an armful of enthusiastic ‘wolf. “Um, hi,” he murmured, oof’ing a little. 

“Thank you,” Isaac said softly, clutching the little bundle to himself as if someone was about to take it from him, while staying wrapped around Stiles like an octopus. Hee, Wereoctopus. 

“Sure,” Stiles grinned and gently disentangled them. “Glad you like it. Now go on and shower, cause you are rank, buddy.”

“Yeah,” Isaac breathed, a lock of hair falling into his face as he ducked his head. Shooting him a quick smile, he was up and gone before Stiles could even blink.

Derek followed his Beta at a more sedate pace. He’d picked up his shirt on the way but made no move to pull it on. The bastard.

“Did you even get any of the candy?” Stiles asked him, stealing a sip of coffee from his Dad’s cup, ignoring the resulting glare. 

Derek shrugged. “Some.” He gave the Sheriff a nod, cocking his head as if listening to something. “Isaac’s done, I’ll go shower.”

Frowning, his Dad tipped his cup over, throwing the dregs of his coffee into the bushes below the porch. “Did that water even have time to hit him properly?” he muttered as he walked back into the house. 

“How about sandwiches for lunch?” they heard him shout a moment later and Stiles smiled as Isaac’s enthusiastic “Yes!” echoed through the house.

“He’s a growing boy,” he grinned, winking at Derek before he could think better of it.

“More like a bottomless pit,” Derek mumbled, using his shirt to dab away the sweat from his neck and forehead. 

Stiles gulped, tearing his eyes away as quick as he could. “Right,” he said, “good thing then that my Dad is used to Scott coming over all the time.”

Derek didn’t answer. His gaze rested on one of the little bags Stiles had fashioned out of old dishtowels. “How did you know about the Taffy?” he asked finally, sounding contemplative.

Stiles shrugged. “I have no idea to be honest. I just had a feeling he would like it, I guess.”

Derek glanced at him, his eyebrows drawn together. “It’s his favorite. His Dad used to bring it back from work for him, before things got bad.”

Stiles swallowed hard. “Oh,” he said, feeling a bit in over his head. “Lucky guess?”

Huffing in what could have been both amusement or annoyance, Derek walked away, leaving a bemused Stiles behind.

 

* * *

 

It couldn’t have started more ominous. 

“Oh!” Erica exclaimed as soon as she set foot in the door, Boyd following on her heels. “I didn’t know one of them was an Alpha!”

Stiles rolled his eyes, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Boyd. “His name is Derek, in case you didn’t know. And him being an Alpha doesn’t make him any less my mate.”

“Bitchy,” Erica grinned. “I like it, keep it up, Stilinski. Still, why exactly didn’t I know that your big bad werewolf protector was also the top of the foodchain?”

“Because it’s none of your business?” Stiles answered, more than a little irritated. He liked Erica a lot, but at times she was like a dog with a bone – pun very much intended. Why Derek’s Alpha status was her particular bone at the moment was a mystery to him though. 

She began to speak, but was immediately hushed by Boyd. She glared up at her mate and they seemed to have a silent conversation that ended with Boyd smirking and Erica pulling her glossy lips into a pout. “But why not,” she whined and at that moment Stiles was painfully reminded of the shy, insecure little girl he had met in pre-school. Sometimes he kind of missed her.

The moment ended when Boyd growled and grabbed her, putting her over his shoulder. Erica squealed, cackling as she hit Boyd right in the solar plexus, making him heave and release her abruptly. She smirked at him and then proceeded to suck his brains out through his mouth.

“Blergh,” Stiles made, waving them along. “Why don’t you go on, my Dad’s out back with Derek. Try not to ogle him too much, he’s a little shy. Also mine.”

Erica grinned. “You’re cute when you’re all possessive. Come on, babe, let’s take a look at Stiles’ new playthings.” With that, she sauntered off.

“She doesn’t mean it like that,” Boyd murmured as he walked past Stiles. “It’s just not everyday that we get to meet a legit Alpha.”

Stiles smiled at him. He quite liked the calm Beta and he had an inkling on how hard it had to be for a ‘wolf without a pack to ignore the siren call of an Alpha. “That’s alright. Just remember that Derek does have a pack already.”

Boyd smirked. “Oh, I will. Not sure about Erica, though.”

Before Stiles could think of an appropriately pissy answer to that, Boyd had turned away. “Great,” Stiles murmured, intending to keep an eye on her. 

There was no way he’d put up with the two Betas living in his house as well, just because Derek was a bleeding heart and would take on any pack-less Beta he’d stumble across. It wasn’t even that they were alone or anything, since they had each other and had formed their own little dysfunctional wolf-pack. And because they had gotten the bite under CPA approved conditions, there was no need for them to look for their ‘maker’ as it were. 

“Wow, what a warm welcome!” Scott said directly in his ear.

Stiles almost jumped out of his skin. He hadn’t even heard his best friend’s car come up the driveway. “Damnit, Scott! Give me a heart attack, why don’t you?”

Grinning, Scott held up both hands. “Hey, it’s not like I was the one standing in the open doorway, day-dreaming.”

“Whatever,” Stiles grumbled, willing his heart to stop trying to jump out of his chest. “Where’s your better half? Weren’t you supposed to pick her up?”

Scott grimaced. “Yeah, I was, but then she got sucked into something with her grandfather. I can’t stand the man, he’s always going on about how she should find someone decent to date.”

“He’s right,” Stiles teased. “Allison is way out of your league, buddy. She could do so much better.”

“Yes, I know,” Scott said, but he wasn’t smiling. “And I’m kind of okay with her father thinking that way about me, because he’s supposed to hate me, you know? But that Gerard guy? He doesn’t hate me because I’m a no-good highschooler that wants into his granddaughter’s pants. He hates me because I’m a werewolf.”

Stiles sobered abruptly. “That’s awful, man. Are you sure it’s not just because you’re a jock with bad grades?”

“Uh,” Scott grimaced. “Thanks for that, Stiles. And yes, I am sure. He even told me to my face. Anyway, can you keep that to yourself? I don’t want Allison to know about this, she is trying to get along with him, maybe get a real grandfather out of the whole deal.”

Stiles gave a nod. “Course. Oh hey, speaking of unmentionables, could you please not tell Derek what really happened the night of the full moon?”

“You mean how you tried to bribe me with meatballs to sniff out if Danny finds you attractive?” Scott asked with a smirk.

Stiles blushed. “Uh, yeah, that.”

“No problem,” Scott assured him. “I could be bribed to sniff out if Derek likes you, though. Got any of them meatballs?”

“Oh my god, shut up!” Stiles moaned, flushing hotly. 

Scott let out an evil laugh, taking a step back, and was nearly bowled over by Lydia. “Ugh,” she said, tugging at her shirt primly. “What are you two idiots doing, standing in the front door like this?”

“Waiting for you?” Stiles quipped, shooting her what he hoped to be an appeasing smile.

“Oh,” she said looking down her nose at him. “That’s alright then.” She walked in, shouldering Scott aside without regard for his superior height. “Danny won’t be able to make it, he has a new boytoy and is loathe to let him out of his sight,” she said conversationally, “But look what I brought instead.” She made some sort of wavy motion with her hand and suddenly, Allison appeared as if from thin air.

“Hey, you guys,” she greeted them with a dazzling smile and once again Stiles was baffled as to why a girl like her would want to date Scott.

It was only after he’d gotten a hard slap to the back of his head that he realized that he’d said that out loud. “Allison, hi,” he greeted her with an apologetic grin. “Glad you could make it! Come on in, the others are already out back.”

Shooing the girls up ahead, he mouthed a ‘sorry’ at Scott and earned an eyeroll for his trouble. Stepping into the backyard, they were immediately pounced upon by a hyperactive Erica, Isaac hot on her heels. “Sorry,” the Beta murmured, placing himself between Stiles and her. “She got into the chocolate. Wouldn’t leave Derek alone, so I told her to find you instead.”

Stiles rolled his eyes and looked around quickly. He found Boyd deep in conversation with his Dad and called out, “Oi, Vernon! Get your rowdy mate off me and for god’s sake, feed her some meat. No wonder she’s so damn bouncy with all the crap she eats.”

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Adderall,” Scott dead-panned, making Isaac grin.

Stiles shot his best friend a betrayed look, miming being shot in the heart. Scott grinned at him unrepentantly and moved off towards the sizzling steaks, taking both Allison and a startled Isaac with him. Stiles was surprised at the lack of protest from his Beta but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth for once. It was totally unexpected, the way Scott and Isaac instantly hit it off. As they walked away, they were talking already, about lacrosse of all things, Allison trailing behind them, arm in arm with Lydia.

Meeting Derek’s gaze across the length of the garden where he’d been leaning against their lone tree, he was alarmed by the suspicion and anger in his mate’s eyes. Following what Derek’s stare was focused on, Stiles winced. Oh yeah, right.

Striding over there, he noticed how tense Derek was, a nervous energy emanating from him that reminded Stiles of the feral ‘wolf he’d first met in the Pound. “Derek, let me explain,” he said as soon as he was close enough to talk without being overheard. “I probably should have told you about Allison being the daughter of a Hunter, but I just didn’t think it would matter. I mean, she is dating a werewolf, doesn’t that mean she’s trustworthy?”

Derek glared at him, his expression saying ‘no shit’ very clearly. “Yes you should have told me. And that girl’s an Argent,” he hissed. “Not just any Hunter, but the niece of Kate Argent, who happened to burn my family alive!”

Stiles gulped, a sick feeling rising in his stomach. “Oh god,” he murmured. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, I had no idea, Derek, you have to believe me.” Looking back to where Allison was feeding Scott bites of her burger, laughing freely at his antics, he tried to reconcile the picture he had of her with that of a coldblooded killer. He couldn’t. Kate, on the other hand, now her he could easily see as having been a murderer slash arsonist.

“That’s why nobody ever made a fuss about her death,” he concluded, thinking back on how hard it had been on Allison to lose her Aunt under such mysterious circumstances.

Then, a new thought entered his mind, one that had his blood run cold. Looking directly into Derek’s eyes, he tried to get a hold of the bond, to get it to tell him the truth. “Did you kill her?” he asked, remembering what Dr. Deaton had said about Derek being on the suspect list for a series of murders committed by a Creature citizen.

Derek gave him a humorless smile. “No,” he answered simply. 

There was no deceit in him, so Stiles gave a relieved nod. “Alright, great, not that I thought you had. I mean, sure, you’d have reason to want her dead, but I didn’t actually think—“

“Peter did.”

Stiles stopped short at Derek’s interruption. “Come again?”

“Peter was the one that killed Kate,” Derek said slowly. “Him being distracted by his need to take revenge was the only reason I got close enough to do what I had to. I was too late for her, though.”

“Good riddance,” Stiles spit out, and even though he was appalled by his own cold-bloodedness, he could actually feel Derek relax a little beside him. 

“Yeah,” the Alpha said, his gaze far away. 

“I had no idea about any of this,” Stiles assured lowly, willing Derek to believe him.

“Oh, really?” Derek demanded, eyes sharp again. “And what about the other girl? Don’t tell me you’re in the dark about her as well.”

Confused by the sudden change in topic, Stiles wrinkled his brow. “Who, Erica? I told you she was a ‘wolf—“

“I’m not talking about the clingy Beta,” Derek sneered. “She’s annoying, but tolerable. I’m talking about the Immunis currently attached to your Dad.”

Stiles eyes snapped over towards the grill, where indeed Lydia had linked arms with his spatula-waving Dad. “S-She,” he stuttered. “Her? H-How, what? Lydia?”

“Of course that’s her,” Derek grunted, looking annoyed rather than bloodthirsty. “So let me get this straight.” His voice was dangerously calm. “Your best friend – who is a Beta, I might add – is dating a Hunter, an Argent no less, and the girl you have a crush on is the same Immunis that helped my Uncle almost kill me.”

“Seems about right,” Stiles said breathlessly, cringing. “Although I’d like to clarify that any and all crushes that might have been had are totally in the past.”

“That’s good to know,” Derek said through clenched teeth, voice laced heavily with sarcasm. He didn’t look like he was about to spontaneously combust anymore, though, so Stiles counted that as a win. 

Crisis averted, at least for the moment, Stiles heaved a sigh of relief. He even managed to coax Derek over to the others with the promise of food, making introductions as they went. 

If Lydia remembered anything from her ordeal with Peter, she never showed it. Her reaction to Derek was par of the course for any breathing human being, male or female, namely showing off her goods and basically doing the human equivalent of baring her belly. 

Stiles rolled his eyes and would have been ticked off, if not for the fact of Derek’s total non-reaction. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to stride over there and stake his claim, mark Derek as his somehow, and for the first time he could actually understand the urge to put a collar on a ‘wolf. Not that he’d ever ever do something like that. It just was a lot easier to judge such things while not on the possessive end of a mating bond. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take long for everyone to get settled. Once the food was on the table, it was more of a thing to pull one’s hands back fast enough. ‘Wolves, it seemed, were perpetually starving.

Shoveling potatoe salad on his plate absently, Stiles let his gaze wander round the table. Erica and Boyd were sharing a huge steak, feeding the pieces to each other like the disgustingly cute couple they were. Allison was talking to his Dad, exchanging guacamole recipes of all things, and Scott had Isaac in his thrall with the story of how he had managed to fool Coach Finstock for over half a season after getting the bite. 

“Yeah,” Scott was saying. “I did all those crazy things, like somersaulting over a guy’s head or throwing the ball so hard it went through the net, and all the Coach would say was ‘Great work, McCall’ and promise me first line. Thank god the Creature quota in our team wasn’t yet filled or we would have been disqualified from the League.”

Isaac smiled at Scott in an easy, content way. “Think I could maybe join the team?” He asked softly, hopeful. “I used to play when I was younger.”

“Really? That would be awesome!”

There was nothing contrived about Scott’s reaction and it showed in Isaac’s wide grin. It was the most comfortable Stiles had ever seen his Beta, and he answered the question in Derek’s raised eyebrow with a shrug. 

He slowly began to breathe easier as things seemed to settle down well enough. His friends were mashing as well as could be with his new pack, considering the unexpected baggage. Of course, Lydia chose that moment to muss things up again. 

“Speaking of that whole bite business,” she sing-songed, “a little birdie told me that you’re actually a born werewolf, Derek? Is that true?”

Stiffening, Derek slowly nodded.

“Huh, interesting,” Lydia said, tapping a neatly manicured finger against her bottom lip. “Say, doesn’t that make a difference with the bond? I’m sure I read somewhere that born ‘wolves are a special case when it comes to forming a mating bond.”

“You must be mistaken,” Derek gritted out and Stiles could see the way his knuckles whitened around the fork he held. Lydia didn’t look threatened at all, despite the glare of death that Derek was sending her. Instead, there was a satisfied air to her, as if his reaction had told her something useful.

“We saw Jackson at the Pound,” Stiles blurted out, in a desperate attempt to change the subject. 

For some reason, it had the desired effect. Lydia paled, her gaze snapping to his. “You what?” she asked, her voice sounding a little faint. 

“Jackson. Whittemore? We saw him. He was Impounded together with Derek and Isaac.”

“That can’t be right,” Lydia protested. “He doesn’t even live in Beacon Hills anymore. Remember, he transferred to that private school in San Francisco?”

“I don’t think he was there on a school trip, Lydia,” Stiles said sarcastically. “Looked more like a life senten—ow!” He broke off with a yelp as someone kicked him hard in the shin. Scowling, he looked around for the culprit, only to have Allison grimace at him and tilt her head in Lydia’s direction.

She was so pale, her skin looked almost translucent and she kept staring into space, lips pressed together. Stiles had never seen her quite like this, shocked into silence as she was, and with a downward pull to her lips that seemed at odds with their happy pink colour. She hadn’t even looked this bad last year, when strange things had happened to her and nobody had an explanation for them.

It didn’t make any sense, for her to react like this to what Stiles had thought to be a simple conversational gambit. 

It was almost like… “Oh,” Stiles said, the penny finally dropping. “I didn’t know that you—“

“What?” She snapped, seemingly over her shock. “That I’m suprised to get news of the first guy that ever kissed me under the bleachers? Or that I’m shocked and dismayed to hear that he didn’t lead the life of a prince I suspected he was, and that maybe, just maybe, he even had a reason for not writing me back even once in almost three years?”

There was no way he was going to get out of this one unscathed. “Yes,” he cringed. “That.”

“Well, you do now,” Lydia huffed, gathering haughty superciliousness around her like a shield. “Mr. Stilinski, would you be so kind as to pass me the breadsticks?”

Feeling a little like a scolded child, Stiles ducked his head, desperately trying to ignore the awkward silence that reigned, until it was deliberately broken by Allison, who started to chatter on about the wonders of her new crossbow of all things. “No, really,” she babbled helplessly. “It has this really cool visor and my Dad’s working on some sort of gimmick for the arrows, just like the bullets I showed you, remember, Scott?”

Stiles almost laughed out loud at the look on his best friend’s face. 

“The ones with the wolfsbane in them?” Scott asked carefully.

“Yeah!” Allison answered excitedly. “Exactly like those!” Looking around the table, the flush of excitement suddenly fled from her face as she met the gazes of four not-so-pleased ‘wolves.

“Only I’m not using wolfsbane,” she backpedaled quickly.

Derek snorted. “You should,” he said, giving her a dead-pan wink.

And just like that the Betas exploded into laughter and good-natured taunts, ribbing her mercilessly. Erica gave Allison a light slap on the arm, commenting with a dry: “Really, Argent? Wolfsbane?”, and even Scott gave his girlfriend some grief, even though he was also quick to gather her up and offer his arms so she could hide in them. It was sort of cute, Stiles thought, in a ew-I-don’t-think-my-best-friend’s-cute way.

He was astonished how with one single comment, Derek had diffused the whole situation, the Betas automatically following his lead. Adding his own comments after a fault, he rather enjoyed seeing Allison be embarrassed like this. It gave him an inkling into why she seemed to be such a good match for Scott, even though they were as different as night and day. Literally, what with him being a Lycanthrope. 

Shooting Derek a glance, about to remark on his awesome Alpha powers – unironically, of course – Stiles was surprised to see him watch Lydia thoughtfully. A strange feeling shot through him as he failed to catch his mate’s gaze. It took him a moment to realize that he was actually jealous of the attention his mate was suddenly paying the girl and that gave him pause. 

This whole thing was getting stranger and stranger. It wasn’t like him to react like a 13-year-old and be unreasonable like this, especially since there was nothing going on between him and Derek. Yet, his treacherous mind whispered, and as he looked across at his squabbling friends, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind anymore that this was all some sort of predestined circumstance. 

He was so screwed.

 

* * *

 

The first day back at school was interesting, for lack of a better word. After a whole week of constantly being with Derek to strengthen their bond, it felt physically painful to be apart from him. According to the brochures, it was a side-effect of the bond and supposed to get better with time. 

Right now, though, it felt like a thousand ants were crawling around just under his skin. It was very disctracting and Stiles didn’t even want to imagine how it had to be for Derek, since the bond was even stronger for the ‘wolf. 

At least Stiles had Isaac with him, that actually helped a little. It was still so weird, to have the pack bond pulse through him, connecting him not only to Derek, but also to Isaac and his Dad. 

He’d noticed that when he concentrated hard on it, he could actually manipulate it a little. Maybe with some practice, he’d be able to use this to his advantage. As it was though, the constant glimpses he got of his new pack-mates emotions was very distracting and sometimes even downright uncomfortable. 

It was different with Derek. For some reason, he had more control there and even when something spilled over, it was more like it was meant to be there, rather than an intrusion. It was both disconcerting and strangely satisfying and it drove Stiles mad. So for most of the time, he just tried to ignore it. 

He was glad that classes were almost over, even if it would be a few hours still until his Dad and Derek would come home from work.

“Oh, look, there’s Allison,” he said to Scott as they maneuvered the hallway walking towards the exit together with Isaac and Danny. “I wonder if she knows that you still keep her picture in your locker, even though her Dad made it perfectly clear that you are to stay away from her.”

“Of course she knows,” Scott said with a self-satisfied smirk, continuing to make moony eyes at Allison from afar.

“You know, you two are just like Romeo and Juliet. You a werewolf, she the daughter of a Hunter, it’s a romance novelists wet dream. Except that…” Stiles trailed off when he suddenly noticed that he was talking to air. Well, that and Isaac, if Isaac would actually voluntarily engage in any conversation that didn’t involve Lacrosse in some way. And Danny, if Danny didn’t have a habit of tuning out everything that came out of Stiles’ mouth.

Turning, Stiles saw Scott standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at nothing.

“Hey!” Stiles said loudly, waving a hand in front of his friend’s face. “What the hell is so interesting that you’re giving up on a chance to talk about Allison?”

“Nothing, just…” Grimacing, Scott shook his head as if to clear it. “I thought I felt something.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, looking around surreptitiously. Beside him, he could see Isaac doing the same and then shake his head. Feeling only marginally better given the fact that Isaac looked about as competent as a puppy dog, Stiles tried to shake off the sudden feeling of paranoia.

To his surprise, it was Isaac that spoke up in that quiet way he had: “Isn’t that Jackson over there?”

“What? That can’t be…” Stiles exclaimed in alarm. Looking over, he saw that it was indeed Jackson standing by the lockers, Lydia hanging on his every word. He grimaced, thankful for small favours that had him getting over his massive crush or her expression would have broken his heart. “Oh my god, it’s actually him. How is that even possible?”

“Jackson Whittemore?” Danny asked, suddenly interested, craning his head to see the other boy. “Huh, he hasn’t been around for a while now, has he. I heard that he was sick or something. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” Stiles hissed, “is that when we saw him last, he was Impounded for being a Kanima. A frickin’ Kanima, Danny! Do you have any idea what that means?”

“Uh,” Scott interjected with a confused frown, even as Danny paled. “That he’s not sick anymore?”

Staring at his best friend, Stiles stifled the urge to smack him upside the head. “No, bonehead. Him being free means that he’s being controlled by someone! ‘The Kanima seeks a master’ remember?”

“Um, no?”

Staring, he shook his head. “Man,” he scolded, “you really need to start paying attention in class. This stuff is important, especially now.”

Grimacing, Scott blushed. “Yeah, I know. My mom’s on my case about that all the time. It’s just that I can’t seem to concentrate at all lately. If it’s not the moon keeping me from getting any studying done it’s that new guy my mom’s dating-“

“And if it’s not that,” Stiles interrupted, “it’s the unhealthy obsession with Allison that keeps you up at night, yeah, I get it, your life is the hardest.” 

Scott slid his bottom lip forward in a pout and crossed his arms. “No need to get snippy now.”

Throwing his hands up, Stiles jumped up and down a little in exasperation. “Jesus Christ, Scott, can we please focus on the fact here that there’s a Kanima running around the school that could be controlled by Coach Finstock for all we know?”

“He’s gone, by the way,” Isaac cut in quietly then.

Sure enough, as he looked over, Jackson was gone. “Great. Now we have to go find him before he takes off wherever.”

“Yeah, I’m out,” Danny murmured. “Lydia gets me in enough trouble as it is.”

“Coward,” Stiles yelled after the Goalie’s retreating back, earning the finger for this trouble.  

“Find Jackson?” Scott said then, apparently over his little tantrum. “Shouldn’t we stay as far away from him as possible? You know, do the sensible thing?”

“Not this time,” Stiles said grimly. “We have to figure out what’s going on here and I’ve got a strong feeling that both Jackson and my Dad are involved in it.”

Staring at him for a long time, Scott finally sighed. “All right, let’s.” Stiles chose to ignore both the added, “I gotta stop letting him watch ‘Veronica Mars’,” and Isaac’s subsequent snort-laugh.

“Come on, you guys,” he said instead. “I know where to start looking.”

 

* * *

 

Walking into the Creature Pound for the second time in a week, Stiles banged the little desk bell grimly. The Pound security precautions made it difficult for ‘wolves to enter, so Scott and Isaac had opted to stay outside, even though none of them was happy about letting Stiles go in alone. He had been touched, in an offended sort of way.

“I am very sorry but I don’t have any offerings right now…” Dr. Deaton trailed off as he saw him, stepping up to the counter slowly. “Ah, Mr. Stilinski. Back so soon? I hope there weren’t any problems with the bond? Unfortunately, we can’t give refunds. At least not in the conventional sense.”

Horrified all over again, Stiles shook his head sharply. “No problems, no, so there won’t be any refunding necessary, conventional or not.”

Looking amused, Dr. Deaton nodded. “Something else I can help you with then?”

“Yes,” Stiles said. “You can start by telling me who took Jackson out of your questionable care.”

“That is classified information, I’m afraid.”

“Like hell, it is,” Stiles snorted, glad that he’d taken the time to look up some things on the way over. “It may not be public information, but fellow Handlers are privy to these kinds of things. So, as a Handler, I’m asking on information about Jackson Whittemore, Kanima mutation.”

With narrowed eyes, Deaton smiled tightly. “Very well. Please excuse me for a moment.”

Stiles nodded graciously, giving Scott and Isaac a surreptitious thumbs-up. Only a few moments later, the Doctor returned with a single sheet of paper. “Here you go,” he said in a tone that might as well have been ‘Eat poison’.

Stiles took one glance at the ownership papers and felt his stomach drop. He managed to keep his shock from showing too much – he hoped. “Ah, I see,” he murmured. “And how come Gerard Argent gets to control a Kanima when I happen to know for a fact that Hunters aren’t allowed to take on Creature citizens?”

Deaton gave him a serene smile, pulling the paper back. “As you also may know, the Argents are one of the oldest Hunter dynasties still in existence. They are influential enough that certain rules can be made to bend a little.”

“And you let that happen?”

“I had no choice,” Deaton answered, looking anything but unhappy about that fact.

Stiles huffed. “You can’t just give away a Kanima to just anyone like this, I checked. They need certain qualifications and all sorts of papers. Have you verified that at all? Because if you didn’t, you can lose your license, and wouldn’t that be a pity.”

Dr. Deaton smiled at him. “I did check, don’t you worry. Mr. Argent is in possession of all the Handler papers necessary for taking command of a Kanima.”

“Of course he is,” Stiles spit out. “He is a freaking Argent, as you have pointed out, he’d probably get papers for a hellhound if he wanted to.” 

Dr. Deaton smiled mildly. “There is no such thing as a hellhound, Mr. Stilinski. Now, if you would excuse me, I have some things to take care of.”

Huffing an annoyed breath, Stiles turned to leave. Deep in thought as he stepped outside and walked up to the car, he failed to notice at first the third person standing with Scott and Isaac. “You know,” he said, giving a disgusted full-body shudder, “that guy gives me the creeps…” He trailed off when Isaac made a distressed sound, stopping short at what he saw.

Standing beside Scott, looking like a benevolent grandfather – the illusion almost perceft, except that Isaac did his best to hide from him by making himself seem as small as possible – was Gerard Argent, Head Hunter of the Beacon Hills district and signing member of the CPA committee.

“Mr. Argent,” Stiles said as civilly as he could. He’d never actually met the other man before, but his reputation preceded him, especially since he actually went to school with Allison. Even she didn’t like him much and he was her only grandfather. 

“Stilinski, is it? The Sheriff’s son?” Argent gave him a wide smile that Stiles wasn’t at all fooled by. He’d read enough about the Hunters and their so-called Code of Conduct to know that all rules were meant to be broken. 

“Yes, Sir,” Stiles acknowledged, subtly moving between the Hunter and Isaac. On the inside, he cackled at the irony of him trying to protect his new werewolf pack-mate, when the whole purpose of the exercise had been for him to be protected. But there was just no way he’d let Isaac face this situation without backup, not when he could feel anxiety rolling through the bond in cold, dark waves. There was history there, he could sense it as clearly as if he’d been told, could read it in Isaac’s frightened little intakes of breath. 

“Ah, I see you’re taking your little Beta out for a walk?” Argents words dripped with syrupy politeness. “That’s commendable. Try to keep an eye on him though, will you? To my knowledge, our Mr. Lahey here is a bit, well, jumpy, for lack of a better word.”

Stiles felt rage begin to fill him. It was only in part his own, fueled additionally by Derek’s rising awareness of their situation. “I would like for you to stay out of my business, Hunter Argent,” he said as snootily as he knew how to, clumsily sending reassuring, calming thoughts through the bond. “If you want to make an official complaint, I’m sure you are quite aware of the proper channels.”

Chuckling, Argent leaned back a little. There wasn’t anything threatening about the move at all, but it exposed a long, coiled whip that was fastened to the man’s belt. Stiles felt Isaac shrink back at the sight and he let out a long breath solely through his nose to calm himself down. This was a show of dominance, he realized, and he refused to be intimidated by cruelty. 

“Ah,” Argent said, watching him like a shark, his hand resting lightly on the whip’s handle. “A man to my liking, sharp-tongued and upfront.”

“Then you’ll probably appreciate me being upfront with something else,” Stiles heard himself say. “I don’t know what you’re up to here, but let me make it clear that while I wouldn’t exactly call Jackson Whittemore my friend, I nonetheless like him enough that I won’t let you use him for whatever sinister things you have cooked up.”

Argent chuckled. “Well, well, well. I didn’t know Jackson had such a fierce protector. But don’t you worry, my plans for him are quite concurrent with his basic nature.”

“Stiles,” Scott said warningly, but he was too far gone in his anger to heed it.

“Listen, Argent,” he hissed. “I know your usual tactics and let’s just be clear that I don’t care what kind of pull you have around here. I won’t let you get away with insulting my Beta or mistreating someone that’s been put under your care.”

“And what are you going to do about it, huh?” Argent hissed, an insane gleam in his eyes.

“Anything to stop you,” Stiles growled.

“Well, Mr. Stilinski, if this is how you want to play, then let’s play.”

Stiles hardly had time to process the words when suddenly, Argent was in his space, doing something just out of sight that had Isaac howl in startled pain. Stiles could just about see Scott hold him up, blood soaking Isaac’s shirt. Shocked, Stiles let out a wordless shout that was cut off by Argent’s arm ramming into his throat, cutting off his air supply. He squeaked, thrashing around in the older man’s surprisingly strong grip.

“Hey, let him go!” he heard Scott bellow just as darkness crept along the edges of his vision and suddenly, Argent was pulled back roughly. Stiles sucked in deep gulping breaths, stumbling forward a little. Through his blurred vision, he saw Isaac slumped against the Jeep, one hand pressed to his side. Scott was struggling with Argent, trying to keep what looked like a tazer pointed away from him. 

Unexplainably, it looked like he was losing, and it was Isaac that lunged at the Hunter to help out. Unfortunately, he got in Scott’s way as his knees buckled and Scott caught him on instinct. “Shit,” he exclaimed, Isaac more or less a dead weight in his arms.

The short moment Argent’s attention was on the two ‘wolves, though, Stiles threw himself at him and surprised him enough that he got a grab on the weapon. “Don’t you move,” he grated, his voice almost gone. His throat hurt and felt swollen, but he ignored that as best as he could, considering that every inhale burned like hell.

“That,” he said to Argent, waving at him with the tazer-gun, “was so not cool.”

It took him a moment to realize that Argent was laughing. “What did you think would happen? That I’d just let you interfere and stick your nose in things that are really none of your business?”

“You are not getting away with this,” Stiles rasped. His hand shook slightly, but his grip on the gun was firm as he kept it pointed at Argent. “Attacking us here in broad daylight, totally unprovoked? Even the CPA committee would have a hard time justifying that.”

Argent snorted. “You forget, I am the committee and there are a lot of things that can be explained away when you are the one that actually made the rules. You on the other hand,” he murmured threateningly, seemingly unperturped by the weapon, “have violated at least four regulations by letting an unstable Beta out on the streets unsupervised by his Alpha.”

“Isaac isn’t unstable!” Stiles snarled. “And you had no right to hurt him!”

“Oh, but he is, see,” Argent smirked, looking self-satisfied. “He came right at me and attacked me. I had to defend myself from him and Mr. McCall who unfortunately fell under the spell of his friend’s sudden bloodlust.”

“Bullshit,” Stiles gasped, staggering a little.

“Ah,” Argent said meanly, stepping closer again, seemingly uncaring of the weapon still pointed at his chest. “But who is going to believe a bunch of teenagers when it’s my word against yours?” 

“Get away from him!” Scott’s wild growl surprised them both. He made as if to attack Argent again and Stiles watched it all, seeing everything as if from far away. The way Argent was grinning ferally, one hand hidden underneath his jacket and how Isaac’s skin began to look almost translucent.

“No!” Stiles croaked, his gut telling him that the old Hunter had even more nasty surprises up his sleeve. “Scott, don’t. Take care of Isaac, yeah? You have to get him home.”

Scott shook his head. “Stiles…”

“Scott,” Stiles said with as much authority as he could. “Isaac needs help. Go!”

Loking torn, Scott bared his teeth angrily. “If you touch him again, I will kill you,” he said lowly. It was only when he’d grabbed Isaac in a fireman’s carry, prompting the younger boy to let out a pained whimper, and had speeded away that Stiles dared to breathe again. Which, yeah, ow.

Facing Argent alone was harder than he’d thought. Before, he’d had Isaac to look out for and Scott to hold back and now that it was only the two of them, he suddenly realized how desperate he was. 

Ultimately, it was the panic that undid him. One second he was standing his ground against one of the most influential Hunters in the whole country and the next he realized that he was standing his ground against one of the most influential Hunters in the whole country and his breath got short and his heart began to pound against his ribs, trying to jump out of his chest. 

The fear he’d managed to keep contained during the whole encounter overwhelmed him and it was in that brief moment of uncertainty that Argent attacked. Shoving the gun out of Stiles hand in a swift move, he had him by the arm and immobilized in a matter of seconds.

Pain shot through his wrist and he bit back a cry of pain. There wasn’t any sanity left in Argent’s eyes as he swooped down on him and Stiles shook in abject fear. Suddenly, there was a roaring in his ears, followed by a cut-off howl, and then he was free again. 

He stumbled away blindly, his vision blurred from the tears he hadn’t even noticed were running down his cheeks. He rubbed his eyes with his uninjured hand, cradling the other one to his chest and watched breathlessly what he now could make out to be a vicious fight between Argent and a very pissed-off looking Derek. Fortunately, it looked a lot like Derek was winning.

Relief flooded him, making him dizzy. He zoned out for a bit, only coming back to himself at the sound of ripping fabric. Derek had Argent in his grasp and was shaking him forcefully. The Hunter’s head was snapping back and forth, his body flapping around like a puppet gone haywire.

It looked like he was about to become dead and for a brief moment, Stiles enjoyed the thought. And then reality returned. If Derek was to kill someone, a Hunter no less, there was no way he wouldn’t be put down, soulbond or no soulbond. After all, nine times out of ten, humans survived losing their bonded mate.  

Icy fear took hold of Stiles, fear of losing Derek before they even had started. “Derek,” he gasped, frantically trying to draw in enough breath for proper talking. “Derek, it’s okay! Let him go, it’s okay, I’m okay!”

When there was no reaction and red dots began to show on Argent’s arms where claws dug into skin through layers of cloth, Stiles shot into action. He threw himself between them, grappling at Derek’s chest to get him to release his grasp on the man, who was surprisingly still conscious.

For someone about to be skewered with raser-sharp claws, Argent looked surprisingly calm, Stiles noticed absently. “You would do good to keep your guard-dog at bay, Mr. Stilinski,” he taunted, voice slurring a little.”Bad things happen to Werewolves that can’t be controlled. You of all people should know that, Derek.”

The sound Derek made at the perceptively mild words was barely human and it took all of Stiles’ strength – and Isaac’s, he realized belatedly – to hold him back as the Alpha roared to the surface in a menacing spectacle of canines, claws and sprouting fur. 

Dismayed, Stiles looked around wildly, sure that any second now they would be facing a pissed-off and oh yeah, poisonous Kanima bent on protecting its master. When there was no sight of lizard!Jackson even as Argent began to wheeze under the pressure of Derek’s clawed hands, another possibility suddenly occurred to Stiles. 

“Oh god,” he breathed, horrified at the very thought. “Derek!” He called out sharply, the new kind of fear lending him power enough to get through Derek’s bloodlust. “Let him go!”

Finally, he got through to Derek, who, probably in an attempt to appease both Stiles and himself, did something to Argent’s neck that had the man’s eyes roll back into his head and slump to the ground. 

“What?” he growled then, giving Stiles a quick once-over. Suddenly, he was right there in his space, his now clawless hands surprisingly gentle as they tilted his head up for scrutiny. “You alright?” Derek murmured, his nostrils flaring.

“Yeah,” Stiles finally managed to say, his good hand grabbing a hold of Derek’s shirt. “I’m… yeah. It’s not me… Derek, my Dad, the Kanima...”

He could actually see the moment Derek followed his train of thought. Cursing under his breath, his eyes flashed red as he released Stiles abruptly. “Don’t move,” he said, wolfing out again in a matter of seconds. “I’ll come back for you, okay? Don’t. Move.”

Stiles nodded, willing Derek to go with every fibre of his being. The thought of something happening to his Dad made him physically ill and he was sure Derek could feel at least some of his terror through the bond. Still, the ‘wolf hesitated, his red-rimmed eyes boring into Stiles’.

“Please,” he whispered, giving Derek a little shove.

Closing his eyes briefly, Derek lowered his head. When he looked up again, his teeth were bared, canines fully extended. With one last burning glance at Stiles, he threw himself forward, body folding over into a crouch and then he was exploding into motion, running out of sight quickly.

Stiles kept standing where he was, breathing heavily. His throat felt hot and swollen, aching everytime he talked or swallowed, and even the deep gulps of air he drew in hurt. His hand was a different matter altogether, throbbing in time with his heartbeat and every time he moved it, a sharp pain shot upward from his wrist. He could move it so he figured it wasn’t broken, but it still hurt enough that he tried to keep it still. 

His smind was reeling from everything that had happened in so short a time. His gaze kept straying over to the crumpled from of Argent. The hunter was not even stirring. Palming his cell phone, he briefly thought about calling for backup, but the possibility of some trigger-happy Deputy accidentally hurting either Derek or his Dad had him scrap the idea right away.

Instead, he hovered in place as the lump in his throat grew. For once the bond didn’t tell him anything and he cursed his spotty control. The only thing he could feel with any certainty was that all of his pack-members were still alive, for all of the good that did for his peace of mind. 

Fishing his phone out of his pocket had him hiss in pain, but he managed to hit speed-dial. It rang, and rang, going to voicemail just as Stiles was about to hang up. “Call me as soon as you get this,” Stiles said, hoping that Scott not answering his phone wasn’t a bad sign. “Gerard’s after Dad, Derek went home. Let me know how Isaac’s doing ASAP.”

After pressing disconnect, he kept staring into space, feeling absolutely helpless. A few blocks over, the fate of his pack hung in the balance, and here he was, doing nothing.

It took exactly two and a half minutes for him to make a decision. “Screw this,” he murmured, sprinting towards the Jeep. 

His hands were shaking so badly that he barely got the key in the ignition, glad that Derek hadn’t thought to take them from him. After a few tries, he finally got the car started and threw it into gear, wincing as his wrist screamed in protest.

With screeching tires he shot off, all regards for driving safely gone from his mind. He made it home in record time, half-expecting to hear sirens and see blue lights flashing as he drove up to his house. Instead, the street was eerily silent. The only sign of trouble was their front door, standing wide open as it was and hanging only from one hinge.

Getting out of the Jeep, Stiles didn’t stop to think. The only thought in his mind was making sure that his family was okay. He was out of the car and running up the driveway before reason could return.

The scene that greeted him as he burst into the living room was straight out of a nightmare. Crowded into one corner was his Dad, looking a little worse for wear but more or less unhurt for the moment. He was held in place by the hissing, growling Kanima. The thing was even bigger than Stiles remembered. Its long, lean body kept writhing and undulating as it kept slashing at his prey with poison-tainted claws. The only reason none of them actually touched his Dad was Derek.

The Alpha was magnificent. His body in constant motion, he fought like nothing Stiles had ever seen before. Dodging and attacking almost too quickly for the eyes to follow, he held the Kanima at a distance with huge blows, making it bleed from various cuts. Every lunge of claws, shark-like teeth or deadly tail was met with an equally powerful counteraction that drove the furious Kanima back again and again.

For a little while, Stiles actually forget the danger they were all in. He drank in the sight of Derek’s fluid grace, the way his muscles bulged and heaved as he dodged hits and avoided bites. It was only due to this intense scrutiniy that he even noticed it when Derek’s strength began to wane. The Alpha was covered in sweat, breathing hard and fast through clenched teeth, deep angry growls emitting from his throat. 

It had been a defensive fight form the start, Derek more intent on protecting a member of his pack than to do much harm, but now it took on a desperate note as the Kanima started to get the upper hand.

There still was no getting through for the hissing Kanima, but it grew more and more daring in its attacks, sensing that his opponent was weakening.

Frantically looking around for anything that might be of help, Stiles eyes fell on his Dad’s jacket that had been thrown carelessly over the back of a chair. Feeling like slapping himself in the forehead, Stiles inched closer to it, knowing that his Dad’s backup gun was most likely to be in the hidden back holster.

The move brought him in Derek’s direct eyeline and it was in that moment that Derek made his mistake. Dealing the Kanima a hard blow against the chest, he didn’t jump back fast enough and one long claw sliced his arm. Derek hissed as blood welled up, but it wasn’t the superficial injury that had Stiles’ breath catch in his throat. 

For a split second their eyes met and the bond flared open, flooding Stiles with a plethora of emotions. They were too overwhelming for him to make much sense of, but he could feel the realization of what was about to happen dawn in his mate. 

“Derek,” he breathed as the Alpha roared and straightened, the spreading venom already making him move sluggishly. With the last control he could wring from his cramping muscles, Derek turned, shoving his Dad deeper into the corner. Spreading his arms wide, he rammed his talons into the wall hard, forcing them into the plaster and himself to stay upright, covering the older man as a human shield.

The Kanima snarled in frustration at being refused its prize, attacking Derek’s unprotected back with vicious swipes. In a matter of seconds, Derek was bleeding from deep wounds, the back of his shirt hanging in tatters. He was held upright only by the way he’d anchored himself, legs limp underneath him and a red puddle slowly gowing under his feet. 

Distracted by the way he could feel Derek grow weaker by the second, Stiles scrabbled to get the gun out of the holster, his sore wrist screaming in pain. “Hey,” he tried to shout at the Kanima, but his voice chose that moment to give out completely.

Fumbling the safety off, Stiles tried to aim the weapon, but whenever he got the Kanima in his sight, it moved so that he’d be risking to hit Derek instead if he were to pull the trigger. 

His Dad was saying something in a tone that allowed no argument, but he could barely make it out over the hissing of the Kanima as it grew increasingly frantic in its efforts to reach his target. When he did understand the words, Stiles gave a near-silent sob of helpless frustration.

“You hold on, Derek, yeah?” his Dad was saying, and Stiles could see that he was cradling Derek’s face in his hands, about the only thing he could move. “Stiles needs you, we all need you to hang on here.”

His resolve growing, Stiles steadied the gun, determined to do something, because he could feel that Derek wasn’t doing so well and hell if he was to let Jackson Whittemore get away with hurting his mate. An explosion of noise behind him had him nearly drop it, and it was only with luck that he didn’t squeeze the trigger by accident.  
  
“Stiles, down!” someone shouted and he obeyed on instinct. 

To his astonishment, it was Allison that walked into his line of vision, a crossbow held at the ready. She looked grim as she took careful aim, the special arrow shimmering purple. It left the bow with a high zing, hitting the Kanima right in the back. There was the sound of splintering glass and the Creature uttered a high squeal, letting up from Derek, twisting and turning in obvious pain. It bared its double rows of teeth at them and with a howl, it reared up and threw itself out the nearest window, vanishing in a shower of glass and rage.

“Oh my god, thank you,” Stiles blurted out huskily, relief flooding him as he saw Scott help a very much alive-looking Isaac into the room, the feeling so intense that his vision blurred.

He could just about make out how Allison nodded at him, lowering her bow with an air of satisfaction. “Looks like my Dads new arrowheads are working. He’ll be glad to hear that,” she commented easily, but there was a deep furrow in between her eyes and she kept stroking her index finger over the bowstring in a nervous gesture.

A soft groan had him turn his attention back towards the corner, to where his Dad was still squeezed into what little space Derek had left him in his batshit-crazy kamikaze move. Despite the going on’s around him, his Dad’s attention was still mostly focused on the Alpha, and that alone had Stiles worried.

Stiles practically threw himself forward, meeting his Dad’s serious gaze from behind Derek’s bulk. “Help me get him down,” he said and suddenly Isaac was there, pale but steady, eyes full of trepidation.  

Together they managed to pull Derek’s claws from the wall, one after the other. They came loose in a shower of plaster and wallpaper,  and without the hold, Derek immediately slumped down between them. Stiles crumpled underneath his mate’s weight, desperately holding on to him despite the blood. Even with Isaac’s help, they just about stopped the Alpha from crashing to the ground hard.

Stunned, he sat there, Derek cradled in his arms more by accident than design. They were chest to chest, the ‘wolf still unable to move. He was conscious, but barely so, blinking sluggishly up at him.

“Hey,” Stiles murmured gently. 

Derek moaned a little, his moss-green eyes clouded. “Your Dad?”

Stiles swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. Looking up, he met his Dad’s worried eyes. “He’s fine,” he said softly. “It’s you that looks like a filleted steak.”

In front of him, Isaac pulled a face and held his hands up. They were covered in the blood that was gushing from Derek’s back and even now, Stiles could feel it dripping down his legs, soaking his jeans.

“He healing at all?” He asked, craning his head to get a glimpse of the deep gashes the Kanima’s talons had torn.

“Yeah,” Isaac answered. “But slowly. It’s like a delayed reaction or something.”

“Could have to do with the poison in his blood,” his Dad said, turning toward Scott and Allison who were hovering anxiously. “Can one of you get the First Aid Kit? It’s under the sink in the bathroom on the left. I also need the big scissors from the kitchen and a couple of clean towels. Scott should know where we keep those.”

“Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?” Allison asked lowly, even as Scott had already nodded and turned to go.

Stiles saw his Dad give her a gentle smile. “We will, when it gets worse. He is already starting to heal; it’s only a matter of helping him through the worst of it now.” He glanced down at Derek. “And for some reason I don’t think he’d take kindly to being stuck in a hospital room.”

Stiles had to give him that, even though the thought of not doing anything didn’t sit well with him either. “We could call Scott’s mum,” he suggested, unable to stop himself from stroking a strand of hair back from Derek’s face as he bent over him. His mate’s skin was dry and hot enough to suggest a fever.

Sidetracked by the unexpected softness of Derek’s hair, he startled when Derek snapped his teeth at his retreating fingers, eyes a lot clearer than they had been only a few moments ago. 

Embarrassed at being caught, Stiles cleared his throat. “There you are,“ he rasped, forcing the words out of his sandpapery throat. 

“You sound like crap,” Derek remarked.

“Yeah, well, you look it,” Stiles shot back, tickled as Derek smiled a little. “I’ve been told you’re going to live, so don’t expect any special treatments now.”

Derek snorted, the soft exhalation tickling Stiles’ cheek. They shared a long look, the bond pulsing between them as they shared equally intense feelings of anxiety and alleviation. Peripherally, Stiles could see Isaac turn away with a small smile, the Beta a soothing presence even in his silence.

When he finally looked up again, Stiles immediately flushed scarlet. Both his Dad and Scott – who was still holding the unused medkit – were watching them intently, the former with a speculating gleam in his eyes, the latter looking rather nauseous. 

“Uh,” Stiles stammered, “where’s Allison?”

Scott scoffed. “She had to go home before her Granddad notices that she isn’t just on a milk-run. Which you’d know, if you hadn’t been, you know,” he grimaced, “distracted.”

Offended, Stiles scowled furiously. Thankfully, his Dad chose that moment to step forward with the Med Kit, saving Scott from a couple of scathing remarks about glasshouses and black kettles.

“Tell Allison I owe her one,” he croaked instead, distracted by a change in Derek’s warm weight. There was the odd movement in the Alpha’s legs and arms now, muscle spasms signaling a return of feeling. 

Which was a good thing, of course, but Stiles cursed the timing. At the rate it was going, there was no way the pills his Dad was about to force down the Alpha’s throat would have a chance to take an effect. 

Before he could even finish the thought, Derek suddenly went rigid in his arms. Stiles held on even as Derek growled and glared up at him, mossy eyes narrowed with pain, lips curling to reveal white teeth.

“Stop it!“ Stiles commanded, wincing as Derek leaned on his injured wrist and white pain shot through his arm. Abruptly, the pressure was gone and Derek was up and away until he was kneeling before him, head bowed deep and breathing heavily. 

He gave a feral snarl as Stiles’ Dad stepped forward, half out of his mind with pain. Before Stiles could call out a warning, Isaac was there and pulled his Dad back. “Let me try,” he murmured, waving away the offered utensils.

“Be careful,” his Dad said before backing away to stand next to Scott.

Isaac nodded and turned his full attention on Derek. He didn’t try to walk up to his Alpha right away. Instead he dropped down, lowering his head towards the ground and letting out a soft whine. Derek’s reaction was instantaneous. His head swiveled around, zeroing in on his Beta, some of the ferocity leaving him as he focused on the boy.

There was some of that silent communication crap going on between them that drove Stiles mad under normal circumstances, but this time he cheered inwardly when Derek gave a short nod, acquiescing to Isaac’s request to come closer with little grace and a lot of stubborn resistance.

Stiles had only heard rumors about the ability of werewolves to take away someone else’s pain. He’d always assumed it to be a myth, sure that if there were any truth to it, the CPA committee would have found a way to exploit it. Still, there was no doubt about what he was seeing as Isaac pressed his hand against Derek’s chest, the two of them staring at each other the whole time.

As Stiles watched breathlessly, dark lines began to spread through Isaac’s hand and up his arm, vanishing underneath he sleeves of his sweater. It looked unhealthy and too much like what had happened to Derek at the Pound for Stiles’ comfort. Squashing the impulse to forcibly pull them apart, he bit his bottom lip. He had to trust Isaac to not overdo it, and Derek to not let him.

As if on cue, Derek chose that moment to interrupt. “That’s enough.” He looked a lot better, alert in a way that he hadn’t since being injured. His back was healing quicker too, at least what Stiles could see of it through the tattered shirt.

Isaac didn’t react. He had his eyes squeezed shut, face a grimace of effort as he concentrated on taking away some of Derek’s pain.

“Isaac,” Derek grunted, forcefully pulling Isaac’s hand off his chest. “Stop.”

Isaac jerked as if awoken from a deep trance. His pupils were blown wide as he stared at Derek uncomprehendingly. Keeping hold of him, Derek maneuvered him so that he was leaning against the wall. Unprompted, Stiles scooted over to them, needing to make sure that both his ‘wolves had made it through the ordeals of the day mostly intact.

When Derek tried to pull away a little, Isaac followed him, a tiny sound of loss escaping him. Derek heaved a sigh, but reached out and stroked a hand over Isaac’s forehead in a surprisingly paternal gesture. He rested his hand on the Beta’s shoulder, answering the obvious but unasked question with a gruffly assuring: “I’m good now.”  

Needing to be absolutely sure, Stiles probed along the bond, trying to follow the one that bound him to Isaac. Derek looked at him, rolling his eyes and muttering, “Relax,” under his breath. 

Reassured by both Derek’s tone and the glimpses of contentment and almost giddy relieve he’d gotten from Isaac, Stiles leaned back. The pains and aches he’d almost forgotten during the fight and its aftermath returned tenfold and all of a sudden he was exhausted. 

He wasn’t tired enough to not slap Derek’s hand away from his though. “Don’t even think about it,” he rasped, voice almost completely gone. “There’s nothing wrong with me that a few Tylenol won’t fix. No need for your little magic trick.”

Either he was more tired than he’d thought, or Derek actually looked chastised. There was no time for him to confirm either theory, as Derek turned away then and fixed Scott with a look. “Tell me what happened at the Pound.”

Scott gulped, starting to talk immediately. Stiles smirked a little, tuning out his best friend’s quick recount of the day’s events. He roused again when his Dad bent over him, handing him a handful of pills, a small bottle of water and a wet cloth. Stiles took  everything gratefully, pressing the cool cloth against his swollen throat before swallowing the pain pills. His Dad watching him like a hawk to make sure that he actually took everything. They did turn their attention back to Scott just as he got to the point in his story where they had been separated. Stiles was curious about what had happened afterwards. 

“Isaac had been hit with a sort of tranquilizer dart?” He was saying. “Only there wasn’t a sedative in it, but something else. It got into him quick, made him slow and weak. I have no idea what it was, though, other than that it had a strange shimmer to it.”

“Colloidal silver, most likely,” Derek said grimly. “Not lethal for ‘wolves, but it can stun us long enough for the Hunters to get close. Pretty painful, too,” he added, shooting a glance at Isaac. The Beta returned the look, unfazed.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed, grimacing. “I brought him to my place and got the stuff out of him—“

“Thanks to Allison, I presume?” Derek interjected.

“I had to call her,” Scott mumbled awkwardly. “I didn’t know what to do to help Isaac and then I got Stiles’ message about Gerard and I just. I didn’t know what else to do.“

Stiles grinned, tickled by Scott’s chagrin about having to ask his Hunter girlfriend for help. 

Derek pulled a strange face and it took Stiles a moment to realize that he was trying to look grateful. “It was nice of her, to help us against her own grandfather.”

“Not as nice as you may think,” Scott said. “She hates Gerard almost as much as Chris hates me. Says he brings the worst out in her family and that the sooner he leaves, the better.”

“Smart girl,” his Dad muttered, calling Stiles’ attention.

“Dad, what the hell is going on here?” he asked in a hoarse whisper. “Why is Gerard Argent sicking a fricking Kanima on you?” He paused as sudden realization struck. “I knew that there was more to this whole bonding thing than just that one incident with Scott, I knew it!”

Nodding his head slowly, his Dad sat down heavily. “Yes,” he said, sounding exhausted. “Yes, there is. Do you really think I would have put you through all this,” he gestured vaguely towards a very annoyed looking Derek, “if it had only been about some DUI with a grudge?”

“Well,” Stiles argued, “You did make me wear a helmet in gym class after that incident on the climbing wall.”

Rolling his eyes, his Dad nonetheless nodded. “True, but in my defense, you also were an exceptionally accident-prone child.” Sobering, he  scrubbed a hand roughly over his face. “I probably should have told you the truth from the start; it was foolish of me to think that you would actually do what I tell you to.”

“Well, yeah,” Stiles snorted, ignoring Derek’s huff and Isaac’s slightly hysterical snicker. “So what is the truth?”

Heaving a huge sigh, his Dad walked over to the couch, dropping down on it. “It’s complicated.”

“Good thing we have time then,” Derek said dryly. 

“Yeah.”

Stiles watched his Dad lean back, looking worse than he’d done at the Pound. He seemed to be at a loss for words. When he did talk, it was in a slow, deliberate way, as if he had to weigh every word before letting it pass his lips. “There have been rumors for months now. It started with tiny things, easily overlooked and forgotten just as quick.” He sighed explosively and looked at each of them imploringly. “What you’ve got to know is that, for all its faults, the Creature Protection Act was founded to be a bulwark against discrimination and racism. It was meant to protect Creature citizens as much as the common people.”

“Fat lot of good it did,” Stiles sneered.

“You didn’t know how it was in the beginning,” his Dad said forcefully. “You were too young to see the reactions of the people as they learned the truth of what could be lurking in the dark. There was a time, right after the first Lycanthrope was found out, when the Hunters could have easily taken control of the situation. Some of them petitioned for martial law to be called and if they hadn’t been denied, none of you would be alive today.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest.

“Yes, even you would have been crucified, as a sympathizer at best, at the worst you’d have been convicted for aiding and abetting.” His Dad was brutal in his settled conviction. 

“But it didn’t happen like this,” Isaac said, giving voice to what Stiles was thinking. “What does any of this have to do with the attack?”

Hesitating, his Dad sat up. “I’ll come to that, don’t worry. Anyway, certain voices in the CPA committee are concerned about how the Hunters are taking over the organization. Unfortunately, Gerard Argent isn’t the only one that is taking the law into his own hands. There have been a lot of incidents of Creatures getting a raw deal lately and it’s no coincidence that a lot of the laws that have been passed concerning Creature citizens met such strong opposition.

“I was approached by Alpha Deucalion a few weeks ago to start an informal investigation into these things. He’d just been forced to give up one of his pack because of some construed infringement, so he had a personal interest in the whole thing.”

There was only one conclusion to be drawn. “You found something.”

His Dad nodded. “No proof yet, but yes, lately I did make some leeway in the investigation. Apparently, I haven’t been subtle enough, though. I’ve been getting some vague threats of the ‘stop, or else’ variety, but nothing too serious.”

“But they were enough to make you nervous,” Stiles deduced.

“Yes,” his Dad admitted. “But I never would have thought they’d come after me – or you – the way they did, never in a million years.”

Stiles nodded. “I know, Dad, don’t worry,” he said soothingly. “It’s just, I don’t understand why Gerard would risk his position by openly attacking us like he did. And sending Jackson after you, don’t you think there’d be less conspicuous ways to get rid of you?”

His Dad grinned toothily. “Not while Derek’s around.”

Stiles inclined his head, conceding the point. “Still, even if he denies everything, it’s a lot of effort he went to just to get to you. You must be closer to the truth than you know. What was the last thing you’ve been working on?”

His Dad paused thoughtfully. “I was looking into a new draft bill that would allow the committee to perform tests on Impounded Creature citizens.”

“What kind of tests?” Scott asked, looking a little sick.

“They were blissfully unspecific in their motion,” his Dad answered.

Isaac grimaced and scooted a little closer to Stiles. Surprised but pleased, Stiles carefully laid an arm around him, glad that the painkillers had at least taken the edge off the pain in his wrist and throat.

It was Derek that broke the ensuing silence. “He doesn’t smell right.”

Stiles did a double-take, noticing Scott and his Dad do the same. “Come again?”

“Gerard,” Derek grimaced. “He smelled off, somehow. Not like he was sick, or dying. Like he was more somehow. I’ve never smelt anything like it.”

“Maybe they did already start with the tests,” Scott murmured, looking preoccupied in thoughts.

“Why do you say that?” Stiles wanted to know.

Scott frowned. “It’s just something Allison said awhile ago. She mentioned that her grandfather couldn’t come to visit them for a long time because he was so sick. He didn’t smell sick though, when he arrived here.”

“No, he didn’t,” Derek confirmed. “And there is nothing that can mask the smell of sickness either. It’s why so many of the Turned are asked to work in the medical field.”

“Anyway,” his Dad exclaimed then, slapping his thigh. “We won’t solve this puzzle tonight, so why don’t you guys think of something to eat for dinner, and Derek, can you do me a favor and drive Scott home? I don’t want him to run all the way.

Scott looked up. “You don’t have to do that, I can run, no problem—“

“Please,” his Dad interrupted. “I’d feel better if you didn’t go alone.”

Scott inhaled to protest further, but seemed to change his mind halfway through. “Sure,” he said instead, shooting Derek an apologetic glance as he turned to go. “See you guys. Let me know if there’s any news.”

Stiles nodded and waved at him, while Isaac even ducked out from underneath his hold to give Scott a short hug. Interesting, Stiles thought, indecisive about whether he liked that development or not.

The Alpha ignored the Betas and grabbed a jacket from the neat little pile of clothes he’d formed beside the couch to put over his unsalvageable ripped shirt. 

They really had to think of a better sleeping situation, Stiles mused idly. Maybe if they put in a wall somewhere… He barely noticed Derek coming closer, until suddenly, his mate’s hand clamped around his neck. 

He startled, squeaking as a tingling sensation went through him and the various aches in his body faded into nothing. “What did you…You stealth pain-relieved me!” He yelped, slapping at Derek until he was released.

Isaac grinned at him from his perch on the lovechair. “He did more than that,” he commented, lapsing into silence abruptly as Derek bared his teeth at him.

“What…?” Slapping a hand over his throat, Stiles gasped, suddenly realizing that not only was the pain completely gone, but the swelling had vanished as well, along with the reddish hue to his wrist. “Did you heal me? I didn’t know you could do that.”

“We can’t,” Isaac chimed in cheerfully. “At least not unless-“

“Isaac!” Derek hollered, making the Beta cringe and cower a little. 

Stiles frowned, not liking that dynamic at all. “Stop it with the Alpha posing crap and get going already.”

Derek huffed and shot Isaac a last glance, communicating something to him that obviously told him to shut up, before he followed Scott outside. 

Grinning at Isaac’s little sigh of relief, Stiles turned to his Dad, twisting his hand around to check if it was indeed all healed up. It was.

“Huh,” he said, amazed and a little creeped out by that. “Dad, want to check out what we’ve got in the fridge? Maybe I can throw something together real quick. I’m starving, so I’m guessing Isaac is about to pass out from hunger.”

Isaac blushed. “Scott’s mum made me a sandwich,” he admitted shyly, and Stiles laughed out loud.

“You go on ahead,” his Dad said, smiling at them half-heartedly. “I’ve got to call in the attack, make an official report.”

Stiles frowned. “Are you sure you have to do that? I don’t like this at all,” he said, his gut clenching. “There’s no way Argent will just take an accusation like that lying down.”

“I will not stand by and let that man get away with assaulting my son, CPA committee chairman or not!” 

“Dad, calm down,” Stiles urged. “I’m not saying that we just drop this, but maybe there’s another way? Do we really want to piss off the Argents anymore than we already did?”

His Dad exhaled explosively. “I’d rather play this by the book, Stiles. You don’t know these people, the way they think. They may not be above the use of unfair practices, but they still are bound by the law. Let’s not make it any easier on them to screw us over.”

Nobody had something to say against that. Still, some doubt remained, especially when his Dad had to use the boss card to get his men to arm themselves with tranq guns instead of using live bullets. “Remember,” he said to them on the phone. “The Kanima is being controlled by somebody else, none of this is his choice. That doesn’t make him any less dangerous, but when you’re given a choice, try to keep in sight that underneath the scales is Jackson Whittemore, a 16-year-old boy that grew up in this town.”

It was a good speech, heartwarming even, but for some reason it did nothing for Stiles’ peace of mind. 

 

* * *  

 

The rest of the evening passed in a flurry of activities. The towns only CSI technician came and went, and three Deputies took turns in questioning all of them. They’d all agreed on not mentioning Gerard’s direct attack on Stiles and Isaac, as the man’s dire warning still rang in their ears. It would have been a moot point anyway since Derek’s healing assault on Stiles had made any evidence of it disappear. 

He was amazingly blasé about that fact, when confronted. “Not like it’d stick anyway,” he waved away Stiles’ rebuke.

They eventually settled down and had a light dinner consisting of the stir-fry that Stiles quickly threw together and a huge bowl of chocolate ice-cream each. All of them were exhausted, though, tired enough that even Isaac only picked at his food. 

After everything that had happened, they were loathe to let each other out of sight, so it was decided that Derek would take the couch, with Stiles curling up in the lovechair and Isaac making a little blanket-nest on the floor. 

Only his Dad opted for his own bed, even as Derek offered him the couch. “I’m too old to sleep on that lumpy thing,” he declined, stuttering to a halt when he realized what he’d actually said. “We so have to get you a real bed,” he added, chagrined.

Derek shrugged. “I have slept in worse places.”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean my house will be one of them.”

Willing Derek to just let it go, Stiles was relieved when his mate did just that. “Thank you,” he murmured. “John.”

There was only one way to describe his Dad’s face, and that was utter and total elation. “Right, yeah, no problem, son.”

Derek nodded and turned away, just in time to miss his Dad making a grimace at his own fumbling word-choice. 

Stiles gave his Dad a shit-eating grin, prompting him to roll his eyes. “I’ll turn in. Let me know if you need anything else, boys. Good night.”

As soon as his footsteps had faded, Derek let out a long breath. “I see where you get it now.”

“Oh, you mean the awkwardness and the putting of feet in mouthes?” Stiles smirked. “Yup, that is pure vintage Dad. Although I have to say, that there was especially painful to watch. I refuse to put the sole blame for that display on the Stilinski genes, though.”

Derek stared at him. 

Stiles held his gaze.

“Alright, alright,” Stiles relented after what seemed like hours of staring to him. “You win, the Stilinski’s are to blame for everything. Jeez.”

He gave Isaac a cheery wink, debated if getting rid of the sour taste in his mouth was worth the hassle of trudging upstairs to brush his teeth, decided that it was and made himself go before the comfortable-looking lovechair could weaken his resolve.

When he came back, Derek and Isaac had already settled down. He killed the lights and navigated round the living room by the glow of his cell phone. Snuggling into the warm fleece blanket he’d gotten from his room, he shot off a quick ‘still ok’ message to Scott and tried to make his mind shut up long enough to get some shut-eye.

They did get a couple hours of rest before the shit officially hit the fan. 

The doorbell took them all by surprise, with the possible exception of Derek, who even in sleep seemed to know that something was about to happen and shot upright, about two seconds before the fact.

“Creepy,” Stiles commented, grinning at his mate’s unfortunate bedhead. He hadn’t been able to fall asleep at all and had spent the time watching his ‘wolves sleep. There were worse ways to spend the better part of two hours, he found.

“It’s the Hunter,” Derek growled, effectively putting an end to any teasing. “And he’s not alone.”

There wasn’t much Stiles could do, other than stand back and watch his ‘wolves prepare  for battle. Even his Dad had joined them with his gun already in hand, although he did holster it before opening the door.

It was indeed Gerard Argent standing in their doorway, along with Allison’s father, and a couple of grim-looking Hunters Stiles had never seen before. Behind them, in the car, he could just about make out the artfully bored face of Victoria Argent. 

Even he knew enough about Hunter hierarchy to know that them bringing the matriarch was not a good sign.

“Sheriff Stilinski,” Gerard said, his teeth barely showing as he gave an apologetic smile. “I just heard what happened. On behalf of the CPA committee and my family, please let me be the first apologize for the harm the Creature has done. “

“Thank you, Hunter Argent,” his Dad answered cordially, eyes sharp as glass. “But as you can see, we’re all fine. The Kanima is gone and I’m confident that it won’t bother us again.”

Argent smiled at that, looking like he’d swallowed hot coals. “That is good to know, Sheriff. We would have never forgiven ourselves if something had happened to you or your son. Isn’t that true, Chris?”

Stiles had never officially met Chris Argent before. All that he knew about the man was from the things he’d read online and the stuff Scott had told him. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting of the man that was the son of evil incarnate and the father of Xena, Warrior Princess alike.

It sure wasn’t for Chris to address Derek directly. “Alpha Hale,” he acknowledged. “As my father said, we’re all glad that the Kanima did no lasting damage to your pack. It is currently on the loose, but it’s our top priority to get it back.”

The hand still touching Stiles’ lower back jerked once, but other than that, Derek showed no outward sign of agitation. He inclined his head at Chris, ignoring the older Hunter completely. “Noted,” was what he said. 

Chris nodded back, looking oddly relieved. There was more going on here than an exchange of pleasantries, that much was clear.

Gerard looked furious for a couple of seconds, before he visibly collected himself. “Anyway,” he continued then. “Please be assured that I had no control over the Creature at the time of the attack. Something is wrong with his mutation. As it is, it’s irresponsible for him to be walking free. The Kanima must be found and brought back to the Pound to await further decisions by the CPA committee.”

“You can’t do that!” Stiles exclaimed, looking at his Dad for help. He got a barely there shake of the head, but it was Derek’s hand on his back that had him snap his mouth shut. 

“I fear we don’t have a choice,” Argent said, voice dripping with regret.

“Yes,” Chris butted in. “It’s standard procedure in these cases.” He shook his head thoughtfully. “Pity about the boy, though. I heard he even had a girlfriend at school. A Lydia something? Isn’t she a friend of yours?” He asked Stiles directly.

Put on the spot, Stiles floundered. “Ah, yes, sure, I guess? Lydia, yeah.”

Chris nodded. “Well, take care of your family, Sheriff, and know that we’ll do anything in our power to rectify this unfortunate situation. Alpha Hale.”

With that, he turned to go, leaving Gerard no choice. They walked towards their car in stony silence. Only when they had driven off did the ‘wolves relax again. 

“What in the devil’s name was that?” Stiles exclaimed after ushering everybody into the house, letting himself fall back against the closed door. 

“That,“ Derek said, a slight grin on his lips, “was Chris Argent declaring his allegiance with us.”

“Huh,” Stiles murmured. “Could have fooled me.”

“I think he told us even more than that,” Isaac piped up, sounding hesitant. “He may have given us a hint on how to help Jackson.”

They all turned to stare at the Beta, flummoxed.

“He did?” Derek asked doubtfully. 

“Yeah, I think so. What he said about Lydia being Jackson’s girlfriend, I think he was hinting at her being his cure.”

“His cure?” His Dad asked curiously, mirroring Derek’s frown. 

“Wait, I remember reading something about that,” Stiles said slowly, sorting through all of the information on Lycanthropes and their mutations that he had squirreled away in his brain. “So, the Kanima doesn’t like its own reflection, everyone knows that, right?”

“Sure,” his Dad agreed just a tad too quickly. 

Stiles ignored him, falling into lecture mode easily. “It doesn’t know what it is because of a deep-seated personality disorder that keeps the afflicted person from accepting themselves as they are. This particular mutation is caused by a physical reaction to the bite that resembles rejection, but isn’t. It’s most often triggered by an unresolved trauma.” 

“Didn’t the Whittemores die in a car accident?” Derek threw in.

“That’d do it,” Isaac commented.

Stiles nodded. “The most successful cases in which the mutation was reversed were related to the victim’s next of kin helping them. Parents, siblings and the like. But Jackson doesn’t have any family, and for some reason I don’t think that his foster parents would be able to reach him.”

“If he’d had a strong enough sense of self, the bite would have turned him right away,” Derek confirmed thoughtfully. “So, that Lydia girl. You think their connection is strong enough for him to find himself?”

Stiles snorted. “I have no idea, but Chris Argent certainly seems to think so. And it’s at least worth a try, don’t you think?”

There were nods all around.

“Whatever we’re planning on doing,” his Dad said, “it better happen quick, because from what Chris said, the bit about him being on the loose may actually be true. Which means we have a shot at freeing him of Argent’s control completely. But the longer Jackson is out there, the bigger the chances are that Gerard gets to him first.” 

“Right,” Stiles agreed, fishing his cell out of his sweater pocket. “No time like the present then.” Dialing Lydia’s number from memory, he sucked in a deep breath. It took about five rings for her to pick up.

“What?” she snapped into his ear.

“Hey, Lydia,” he greeted her cheerfully, prompting Derek to roll his eyes at him.

“Stiles,” came her irate voice out of the tinny speaker. “Do you realize what time it is?”

“Um, late?” he fumbled, making a questioning face at Isaac.

“Eleven to twelve,” he murmured and Stiles winced.

“Shit, yeah, Lydia, I’m sorry to be calling you this late, but it’s actually really important.”

“I’m sure it is,” she said caustically. 

“Actually, it’s kind of life or death important.”

Whatever she’d heard in his voice, it made her listen. “Go on.”

Stiles heaved a little sigh of relief. “Okay, listen. I know this is none of my business but humor me, yeah?” There was only silence on the other end, but Stiles forged on. “Have you seen Jackson lately? Outside of school, I mean?”

“Look, Stiles,” Lydia said coldly. “I don’t know what sort of game this is, but I’m not in the mood to play it anymore, okay? And really, bringing the Argents into it as well, have you totally lost your mind?”

Stiles paused, flabbergasted. “What do you mean, the Argents?” 

She snorted gracelessly. “Do you think I’m stupid? You call me in the middle of the night, asking about Jackson of all people, a few hours after Hunter Argent and his goons have been here asking the same thing, and expect me to not get suspicious?”

“Okay, I see your point. But Lydia, believe me, this is no joke. Gerard Argent is after Jackson, and he won’t have any scruples to use deadly force if necessary.”

“Well,” she bitched, “he can certainly try.”

Stiles was beginning to get desperate. “This is no joke! We think we may have found a way to help Jackson, but if the Hunters get to him first…”

“Stiles,” Lydia retorted, not as grating as mere moments ago. “I’m sure Jackson will be very touched by your concern, and when I see him, I’ll be sure to let him know what a great friend you are.”

“Uh, thanks,” Stiles answered desperately. “But, see—“

“No,” Lydia interrupted him again. “I’m hanging up now.”

“Don’t!” Stiles yelled into his phone, scrubbing a hand through is short-cropped hair frantically. “Lydia, this is very important, please. You have to help us find Jackson, okay? Because I don’t know what the CPA committee will do to him if they get their hands on him.”

For a moment there was nothing coming through the speaker. Finally, he heard Lydia let out a tiny sigh. “Listen, Stiles. I will try to spell this out for you as clearly as possible, since you seem to have taken a stupidity pill today. The Argents are looking for Jackson, you said? And they aren’t able to just magically conjure him up via this connection they have?”

“I know it sounds far-fetched, but I really think that it’s—“ 

“Stiles,” she cut in sharply. “Think. If they can’t control him, there has to be a reason for that, yeah?”

“Well, yes—“

“And since there is only one established way of reversing a Kanima mutation, one has to assume that whoever Jackson is with, knows about it and is taking care of him as we speak, right?”

“Right,” he breathed.

“So there’s no need for some knight in shining armor to come galloping around the town to save him, yes?”

“Yeah?”

“Good. Glad we’re on the same page here. We are on the same page now, aren’t we?”

Stiles frowned, biting at the nail of his index finger. “I guess?”

“Jesus Christ,” Derek murmured and unceremoniously took the phone from him. “Lydia, Derek. Thanks for the update, take care.” He listened to her answer, grinning a little. “Yeah, he is at that. He has other qualities, though.” Whatever her reply was made him chuckle, and Stiles clamped down on the urge to wrestle his mate for the phone. 

Derek hung up shortly after that. “Sounds like she has everything under control. The Hunters won’t dare to come after him, now that he’s a proper Beta. And bonded, by the looks of it.” He paused, looking at his Dad. “Unless you want to press charges?” 

“God, no!” He exclaimed disgustedly. “I’m just glad everything worked out for the boy.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he will be his usual arrogant self in no time,” Stiles commented with an eyeroll.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” his Dad said. “An experience like this has been known to change people.”

“Hah,” Stiles snorted. “I bet you haven’t met Jackson yet, though. I don’t think a little setback like this will throw him off-track much.”

“Is it just me,” Isaac murmured quietly, “or has this all been rather anti-climactic?”

Stiles nodded frantically. “Tell me about it. I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Yawning and stretching, his Dad laughed softly. “Well, I for one am glad that it went down like this – without drama, injury or mayhem. I’ve had enough of that for now.”

Stiles looked at him as if he was stupid. “You’re the Sheriff. Drama, injury and mayhem is your daily fare!”

“I’m taking the night off then,” he replied with a sigh after glancing at his wristwatch. “Or what there’s left of it, at least. I suggest you do the same?”

“Yes, please,” Isaac piped up. The Beta looked deadbeat; all of them did, and despite all the excitement, even Stiles felt like he could sleep for a week.

Almost at the top of the stairs, his Dad turned back around. “Stiles, Isaac, you’re excused for school tomorrow. Derek and I have the day off anyway and I think we can all use the rest.”

Surprised, Stiles nodded. He shot off another quick message to Scott, yawning so big his jaw almost fell off. All of a sudden, he was almost dead on his feet and it took Derek grabbing him around the shoulders for him to find his way into the living-room. He was asleep almost before his head touched the pillow, not even realizing that Derek had given him the couch.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, or what felt like morning but was more accurately around midday, found them sitting around their dining table, falling like starving wolves – hee – on the bread rolls Scott had brought over.

“So, is it over now?” Stiles finally asked everybody around.

“Unfortunately, no,” his Dad answered slowly. “I fear that Gerard’s little scheme was only the tip of the iceberg. I’ll have to be more careful from now on.”

Isaac perked up. “So you’re not giving up on the investigation?” 

“Hell, no! This is far too important,” his Dad said emphatically, earning himself a wide smile.

Derek inclined his head a little. “I could talk to Deucalion again, if you think that would help. He probably only told you what he deemed you important enough to know.”

“Oh, so you’ve met the Alpha pack before?” His Dad asked interestedly.

“Yes, once. It was a long time ago, but I could give it a try and pump him for information. For some reason Deucalion has it in his head that he owes me something.”

His Dad gave him a grateful nod and they lapsed into silence again. 

Stiles frowned, playing with his knife. There was something that had been tugging at his mind for awhile now. “What I still don’t get is how Argent could do something like that,” he mused out loud. “I mean, as I understand it, the bond between a Kanima and its master is very much like the mating bond, am I right?”

Derek nodded, looking uncomfortable. 

“So,” Stiles continued. “How was it possible for Argent to even consider giving Jackson away? Shouldn’t he have, I don’t know, felt something for him?”

“You forget that the bond was forced upon them through drugs,” Scott interjected. “I don’t think that you can compare it to a natural one.”

“That is bullcrap,” Stiles countered vehemently, getting up to start putting away the breakfast dishes. “Our pack bond was induced by Deaton’s foul concoction as well and there is no way I could even think about giving Derek or Isaac up willingly.”

Isaac let out a happy growl, getting up and leaning into Stiles, butting him with his head like an affectionate kitten. Stiles shook his head but gave him a smile anyway. Glancing over at Derek to share the moment with him, Stiles froze. 

Derek looked as much deer-in-headlighty as he’d ever seen him. He didn’t meet his gaze, looking intently at something to his right instead. 

“Oh my god!” Stiles exclaimed. “There is something different about our bond, isn’t there? Like Lydia said at the BBQ?”

“Yes,” Derek forced out through clenched teeth. “But it doesn’t have to concern you. Let it go.”

Stiles stared at him, incredulous. “Doesn’t concern me, he says. Are you out of your mind? Of course it concerns me! I have a right to know this stuff, don’t you think?”

Derek didn’t answer. He huffed and stood up so quickly that his chair scraped loudly over the floor. “I’ll go shower,” he grunted.

A hand shot out to stop him. “Derek,” Isaac said, no hint of hesitation in his voice. “Maybe it’s time you told him.”

Astonishingly, Derek didn’t seem to be angry, but torn. “I can’t,” he grimaced.

“Oh, I think you should,” his Dad threw in. 

“Tell me what?!” Stiles cried out in pure frustration. “Whatever it is, I’m assuring you here and now that I want to know it, I need to know it, I want to have acute knowledge about the going-ons in this family—“

Leaning towards him, Derek slapped a hand over his mouth. “You and I, we’re proper mates,” he growled. “That’s why the bond’s been acting up since the beginning. Deacon tried to force something that was already there.”

After a moment of stunned surprise, Stiles about went crazy with the urge to move, to talk, to comment on this life-altering admission. Wriggling around beneath Derek’s hand, he humphed and gargled, trying everything to get free except biting. 

Looking at him like one might at a ticking time-bomb, Derek finally sighed and let him go.

The first thing Stiles did when he was free was to whack Derek upside the head. Hard. “Does that mean we could have had a proper working bond all this time?” he exclaimed. “That we could have had sex all this time?”

There was a long moment of stunned silence where they just stood there, breathing hard and glaring at each other. Stiles swallowed hard, glancing down at Derek’s lips on instinct and that was it.  Giving a throaty growl, Derek bent his head, shutting Stiles' up the best way he knew how. The kiss was hot and deep and got even better when a startled Stiles wrapped his arms tightly around his mate’s neck and returned it enthusiastically.

“Do you have to do that right in front of us?” Stiles could hear Scott complaining, but they only broke apart at his Dad’s dry comment.

“I guess that takes care of the problem with the sleeping arrangement.”

Stiles blushed hotly, but didn’t pull back from Derek completely. The urge to be near the other man, the one that had lurked underneath the surface since the moment they’d first laid eyes on each other had boiled over and taken a strong hold of him. Right then, even the thought of letting Derek go had him press into the ‘wolf’s chest. “Uh, Dad, about that. I know that properly speaking, Derek is an adult and I’m not, and I swear that there hasn’t been anything going on before now—“

“Stiles. It’s okay. I know that there are mitigating circumstances to be considered here.”

“Huh,” he said, stunned. “That isn’t what I expected.”

His Dad gave them a smile. “Yeah, well, I’m glad Derek finally told you. It was becoming ridiculous.”

“Wait. You knew about this?”

Giving him a gentle smile, his Dad nodded. “You really don’t remember, do you?” he asked rhetorically.

Stiles shook his head with a frown. “Remember what?”

“Told you,” Derek interjected, sounding amused. At least Isaac looked as confused as he felt, or Stiles would have considered that he’d been dropped into a parallel universe. One in which his Dad and Derek had secrets that involved him somehow.

“Now this,” Stiles said, pointing between them. “This is not okay, okay? You two don’t get to be all chummy and secretmongery.”

“It’s not a secret, Stiles,” Derek rumbled and Stiles shivered a little. “We were just talking about the first time we met.”

“The first time…” Stiles breathed, and at that moment, flashes of memories stunned him into silence as they flashed in front of his eyes. 

_A boy, a few years older than him, helping him up, drying his tears with a dirty piece of cloth. The same boy, holding his hand and doing something to it so that the bleeding scrape didn’t hurt anymore. Mossy eyes in a serious face, and a gentle voice saying: “See you around, Stiles”._

“I got lost in the woods,” he gasped, eyes snapping to Derek’s face, seeing traces of that somber-looking boy in his features. “You brought me back home.”

“I knew it then,” Derek said softly. “I felt it, that you were the one.” 

Stiles got a little lost in his mate’s eyes then, his body tingling with awareness of what had been there since the beginning, unacknowledged.

“Hey, get a room, you two,” Scott grinned, making fake vomit noises. 

Sending a serene smile in his best friend’s direction, Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand. “Maybe we’ll do that.” He half-expected his mate to protest and maybe slap him around a little for daring to decide for them both, but Derek just looked at him calmly. 

Stiles did a double take. “Huh. I guess we will do that then. Now. Go up to my room, that is.”

“Gargh,” Scott said, turning to hide behind a grinning Isaac. “No details, please.”

“Yes, please,” his Dad said, sounding just as tortured. “No details.”

“I wouldn’t mind some,” Isaac said with a smirk. 

Now it was Stiles’ turn to groan and frown at his Beta. “No snooping,” he said sternly and before anything else could attempt to scar him forever, he pulled an unresisting Derek towards and up the stairs. 

He actually bumped into his door as he tried to get it to open, Derek a warm, silent presence at his back.  “Wait,” he suddenly said. “You said the bond’s been acting up. Do we have to, like, do something to get it to work properly?”

Derek breathed into his neck. “Can’t you feel it change?”

Stiles thought about it, trying to concentrate despite Derek’s best efforts to drive him crazy. “Not really, no.”

“Oh, it will,” Derek said lowly. “It just needs a little time to settle in.”

“Ah,” Stiles gasped, shivering as his mate’s hot breath tickled his throat. “So we don’t have to, uh, do a ritual or something? To strengthen it maybe?”

Derek hummed and pressed his nose in the spot behind Stiles’ ear. “I’m sure we can think of something.”

It was like they’d entered a whole different universe. As soon as his door clicked shut behind them, Derek was all over him, all wandering hands and soft mouth and nimble fingers getting rid of his shirt so quickly it left Stiles’ reeling.

He was suddenly, painfully hard, all the sexual frustration of the last couple of weeks rushing to the foreground, exhilarated to find that it was returned. 

They made it to the bed, stumbling a little in their haste to get skin on skin contact.

“Wait, wait,” Stiles moaned, a sudden thought entering his hazy mind. “This isn’t just a ‘thank god we’re alive’ one-time off thing, right? Because it’s more than that for me. I-I kind of like you. A lot.”

Derek looked at him as if he was crazy. “You’re my mate,” he said by way of answer, as if that said anything that needed to be said. Maybe it did, Stiles reflected. 

“But if you want to stop…“ Derek left the sentence hanging.

“No!”

“You sure?” Derek asked, looking at something beside the bed, a smirk playing around his lips.

Stiles was still hard and the small part of his brain that wasn’t related to his dick had an increasingly hard time to make itself heard, so he didn’t answer. When Derek finally glanced at him, he let a slow smile blossom instead and then he grabbed Derek’s hand and put it directly over his cock. Moaning at the contact, he arched into it. 

“Feel that?” he gasped out as Derek involuntarily tightened his grip and shifted closer. “Does that seem like I’m not sure to you?”

Grimacing slightly and shifting uncomfortably, Derek stayed silent. He was rubbing rhythmically over Stiles’ crotch, encouraged by his needy sounds, and as he lowered his head to seize his mate in a consuming kiss, he didn’t even try to hide his own arousal. 

Pressing against Stiles’ leg, he covered him with his body, his warm weight only adding to the general awesomeness of the situation. After wrenching himself away long moments later, grinning at the way Derek was blindly following his descending mouth, he moved his leg, pressing it upwards. 

Derek growled at the increased contact, and Stiles murmured, “What am I supposed to do with this, huh?”

It took a while before the ‘wolf had gathered his thoughts enough to find an answer, Stiles noticed smugly. Mussed and breathless was a good look for him, too. 

At last, Derek looked at him with half-closed eyes, dark with desire. “Would you suck me, please?”

Stiles was surprised at the bolt of heat that cursed through him at the thought, stunned by the almost submissive tone to his mate’s voice. 

Mutely, he popped Derek’s jeans button open, slowly lowering the zipper. It’d been a while since he’d done this – and somehow he didn’t think that sucking off Greenberg once behind the gym had prepared him at all for what was about to happen – but somehow he got the feeling that it wouldn’t take a lot of expertise to get Derek off. The ‘wolf’s hard cock was already leaking pre-come and he groaned loudly as Stiles slid his hand into his boxers. 

“Shit,” Derek moaned, pushing into the tight grip. “Please…”

Stiles swallowed hard, looking down at the lewd sight his mate presented. He was lying on his back, spread wide open, shirt rucked up almost to his armpits, exposing firm muscles and smooth, almost hairless skin. 

He couldn’t stop himself from touching that wide expanse of skin, his free hand stroking over straining muscles that quivered under his soft touch. 

“Stiles,” Derek breathed, sounding as overwhelmed by sensation as Stiles did, hips pushing into his hand in involuntary little jerks. His mossy eyes were darker than usual, pupils blown wide.

Suddenly, Stiles couldn’t wait any longer. Pulling the boxer’s elastic band down, he freed his mate’s erection, licking slowly from the base to the tip. Underneath him, Derek convulsed, his upper body lifting off the mattress as he vented a long, low moan. Encouraged, Stiles softly blew on the purple head, wetting his lips so that he could wrap them around it.

Derek gasped, one hand coming up to settle on Stiles’ head, not guiding but merely holding on, as if he needed to anchor himself. “’S good,” he moaned, voice deep and filled with so much tenderness, even as the muscles in his legs bunched and tensed in his effort to keep still.

Stiles was overcome with desire, his own cock straining against the confines of his pants, but he ignored it for now. Intent on making Derek lose his mind, he wet his lips and wrapped them around the purple tip, swirling his tongue, going down as far as he could. Which, admittedly, wasn’t very far, but that had more to do with the monster Derek had hanging between his legs than lack of effort on his part.

He couldn’t wait to feel thatinside of him, even though the size of the dildo he’d used for practice paled in comparison. Still, it’d feel so good, opening up to Derek like that, feel their connection in such a tangible way. 

But that wasn’t going to happen tonight. He was too taken by this unexpected turn of events to change things around now. To have Derek surrender his control and leave all the decision-making to Stiles felt like the most natural thing in the world, even as in his head he doubted it, wondering if there was something wrong with his mate.

After all, going from Mr. Control Issues to compliant, little wolf cub just didn’t seem to be the most logical progression. Not that he was disappointed or anything. This content-looking, tamer version of Derek had it’s very own allure and he wondered idly if there was a way to bring him out more often, even without the sexy times.

“I can hear you think,” Derek grumbled, giving testament to the fact that yes, Derek Sourwolf was still in there somewhere.

Stiles answered by puckering his lips and giving a good long suck, prompting Derek to let out a broken moan and shut up quick otherwise. Stiles grinned to himself, adding a cheeky little tongue move and watched Derek lose all of his strength, the Alpha’s body turning to putty as he sank into the bed. 

Letting his mate’s cock go with an audible ‘plop’, Stiles sat up, a new idea entering his mind. Moving his hands over Derek’s strong thighs, he gave a small, barely there push at them.

“Uh,” he groaned, almost losing his mind as Derek spread his legs willingly, even at this tiny hint of pressure. “Oh, can I…?” He didn’t finish the question, distracted by the little brownish nub between Derek’s legs. He’d always thought about this – having sex – in an abstract kind of way. Even with all the research he’d done, he always had been sure that should he someday lose the last bit of his virginity, it would be with someone more dominant, for lack of a better word. 

After all, he did have a crush on Lydia Martin for forever. 

Still, this was inexplicably better, even as he fumbled his way through it. He couldn’t have done such a mess of things yet, not when Derek was a groaning mass of rippled muscles and nerve-endings on his bed.

Returning his attention to the task at hand, literally, he flicked the weeping head with his tongue, capturing the clear fluid and drawing it into his mouth, savoring the taste. Derek´s groan caught in his throat and Stiles glanced up at his enraptured features before reaching to the nightstand for the tube he always kept in the first drawer.

He fumbled the cap open, squirting some of it on the mattress next to Derek’s hip. The ‘wolf didn’t seem to notice. He watched Stiles with hooded eyes, giving him a miniscule nod when Stiles wet his index finger and let it hover over the puckered opening. 

Stiles gasped as he breached that tight ring, stunned by the silky heat he encountered. It wasn’t even as tight as he’d imagined it to be, Derek’s deep relaxation making him open up beautifully. 

“Jesus, so hot,” he murmured as he pulled out again and teased around the edges of this dark place. He scooped up some of the spilled lube and unceremoniously slipped two slick fingers into the tiny hole.

Derek moaned in a way that sounded almost tortured when Stiles slicked his fingers into him as deep as they would go, twisting his hand a little. He almost couldn’t breathe, fascinated by the way Derek reacted to him, how he submitted to Stiles as if this was how it was supposed to be. 

Derek was flushed and trembling, mewling whenever the fingers went a certain way inside him. Establishing a fast rhythm, Stiles pushed his fingers a little harder into the trembling ‘wolf. Derek was beyond words, venting only low moans of helpless sensation as Stiles slowly scissored his fingers. 

Clear drops of leaked from his long, hard cock and he let out strained growls from deep in his throat when Stiles crooked his index finger, brushing over that special spot he’d read so much about.

It was a sight to see. Derek’s cock shook as he did that, goose-bumps spreading over his skin and his eyes rolled back hard. Still, it didn’t take a genius to see that the ‘wolf was at the end of his rope.

“Come for me,” Stiles ordered gently, fitting his lips over the tip of Derek’s cock and hollowing his cheeks as he gave it a hard suck.

Derek yelped, arching up as if electrified. Eyes wide, the ‘wolf let out a startled yell as his whole body jerked, his cock throbbing as he came, hard, in Stiles mouth. His own orgasm slammed through him almost as an afterthought, triggered by that first spurt of total abandon from Derek.

He mewled a little around the cock in his mouth as he spilled in his pants, feeling stupid and exhilarated at the same time. Stiles kept rubbing Derek’s prostate gently even as he struggled to swallow copious amounts of the salty, slightly bitter liquid, mourning the few drops that spilled out of the corner of his mouth.

Every slight push of his finger resulted in another quiver and a moaned groan and before long, he pulled out, not wanting to overstimulate his mate. When he was finally spent, Derek just sort of collapsed, utterly fucked out and keening as aftershocks raced through his sensitized body. 

It was in that moment that the bond flared to life. In a flash of jumbled images and formerly hidden feelings, Stiles realized that what he’d thought to be the mating bond, had but been a mere facsimile of it. 

Like a veil that had been lifted off his eyes, he could feel Derek’s soul as if it was his own, taking it in as a part of his being that he’d never even known he’d lost. 

He looked at Derek, already feeling that his mate was watching him, wide awake and so very much in love with him it blew Stiles’ mind. “Me too,” was the only thing he could think of to say. 

Derek smiled, the first genuine one Stiles had ever seen on the ‘wolf. “I know.”

They fell asleep curled around each other, both of them radiating contentment in a way that could be felt throughout the whole house. 

There were no nightmares in the Stilinksi household that night.

* * * 

 

Blinking blearily, Stiles stared at his phone uncomprehendingly. After a few seconds he was awake enough to realize that Scott had sent him a couple of messages.

He grinned at the first, that said: glad youre okay! And wtf @lydia?! ew lizard cooties, lol and frowned at the second. It had a picture attached to it, something Scott rarely did.

moms new boyfriend has a harley!!! so cool!

The picture was a little blurry, but focused enough that he could make out the face of the man standing beside the – admittedly really cool – motorcycle. 

“Oh, hell, no!”

His near shout woke Derek. Stiles gave him a couple of seconds to come to his senses, watching him grimly. When Derek finally stopped blinking and fixed Stiles with a look of gentle rebuke at having been woken, he held his phone right under Derek’s nose.

“Fuck,” Derek muttered after glancing at it, and Stiles nodded.

Crazy Uncle Peter was dating Scott’s Mum. 

They were so screwed.

 


End file.
